Of Marbles Lost and Found: Raising Harry 4
by aramie.greyson
Summary: Harry's third year at Hogwarts wherein Lucius Malfoy presents him with what seems to be his oddest mystery to date. Rated 'T' for language and a background slash pairing. See bio page for full summary.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long! RL sometimes sucks.

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**Raising Harry, Part Two  
**_Book Four: La Vida Hogwarts_

**Year Three: Of Marbles Lost and Found**

**Chapter One: Grounded**

Harry sighed, staring longingly at his ultralight while helping Dave repair the lawn-mower. "Hand me that wrench, will ya?" Dave asked, breaking Harry's melancholy meditation.

Harry picked up the wrench and handed it to his uncle. "Here."

"Ya know, Hare-bear, your mom didn't ground ya for that fight." Dave tightened a couple of bolts and reached for an oilcan.

"Yeah, she did. It _ain't fair_!" Harry _wasn't_ whining… okay, maybe just a _little_.

"Just from flyin'," Dave said, nonchalantly. "An' I know she said y'all couldn't have a party for your birthday, but… You've been mopin' 'round here for _weeks_. Why doncha go over ta A.J.'s or take Kudzu out for a ride? This has ta be the first clear day all summer…"

Harry shrugged, staring once again at his ultralight. If he were in his room, he'd be staring longingly at his broom. "A.J.'s family is off visitin' with her sister for the next two weeks, and it's too hot to go riding."

"Then take a dip in the pond."

Harry sighed yet again. "S'pose I could go finish my homework…"

"Ya mean ya ain't done with it yet? Thought bookworms like you didn't let homework sit?" Dave asked, teasingly.

Harry just sighed once more and headed up to his room. Once within sight of his Nimbus, he pointedly ignored it and disappeared into his hide-a-room. He felt listless and bored, but was too apathetic to go about finding anything to do, so he kicked back on the bed and thought over the events which _had_, effectively, 'grounded' him.

_'Krätze, take that back! It isn't Hermione's fault you can't fly like ya mean it!'_

_Draco, who had been spouting off at the mouth in his usual manner after losing spectacularly to Harry during the final quidditch match of their second year, snarled so broadly Harry could see his molars. 'I didn't say it was, now did I, you brainless four-eyed freak! I just said that even the _mudblood_ would have pulled out of that dive before I did. Get your hearing checked, _Potter_… Maybe deafness runs in your family.' Draco smirked, 'But, then again, you wouldn't know, would you? Picked out simply because you were the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Inherit-the-Potter-Fortune.'_

_Harry's temper spiked at Draco's insinuation. 'You schwachsinniger! Mom had money _before_ I was adopted, you tonto comadreja! You're still _jealous_, ain't ya?'_

_Draco scoffed, 'Like there's anything to bloody be jealous _of_! An ugly disfigurement and a libertine mother.'_

_Harry was momentarily speechless. He'd read much of Shakespeare, and hadn't encountered the term anywhere else since; it took a moment for Harry's brain to realize what Draco had called his mom. At that moment, Harry leapt forward with an inarticulate roar and landed a well-placed right hook directly on __Krätze's nose._

Harry could still smirk a bit at the memory of cartilage crunching under his knuckles. The short-lived spark of good humor didn't last long as his memory turned from the younger Krätze to the older one, and what he'd glimpsed in the man's mind. It just didn't mesh well with what he knew of the man. There was no doubt that Malfoy had asked Harry for help… Though why he'd picked Harry instead of Dumbledore or Snape or any of the other adults the man must know, Harry had no idea. Normally, Harry would have gone for a lengthy flight to think things over, but that wasn't an option. He sighed and realized that he wasn't doing anything to solve the situation. _Isn't any use wonderin' why, I suppose. Could be I'm just the first to figure this out, if there really _is_ anythin' to it…_Harry's gaze landed on the clock Percy had made. _Wonder iffen I could get the clock to work again?_ Harry started looking through the charms books in his collection.

Meanwhile, Aurilia was at her shop in Lovilla, showing Carly Munez the best way to extract the active principles from wild cherry bark for use in cough syrup. Her thoughts, though, weren't really on the task before her. _Lord Bright and Lady Night, I don't know what to do… Harry's usually better about keeping promises than this. He _swore_ he'd keep a better reign on his temper, yet he goes and gets himself into a damnable brawl. I know that it isn't always easy; Gaia knows, I don't have much of a fuse myself, but he _promised_. It isn't like Harry to break his word so easily, and for something as insignificant as someone calling his friends names? It just doesn't add up…_

"Señora Brewer?" Carly's voice interrupted Aurilia's thoughts.

Shaking her head to refocus on the task at hand, she smiled at her apprentice. "Carly, how many times have I asked you to call me 'Aurilia?'"

Carly returned Aurilia's smile, "At least once more, señora." She pointed to the simmering pot of water and bark before her. "Is this right?"

"Yeah, that's perfect," Aurilia confirmed.

Back at the ranch, Jim finished nailing the last of the repairs to the fence into place and wiped his hands off on his jeans. _Finally done!_ Jim felt like dancing. An early-summer thunderstorm that had behaved more like a land-bound hurricane had utterly demolished an entire side of the fence surrounding the stableyard, not to mention ripped numerous shingles from the roofs of both the garage and stable. Jim had spent the last six weeks cleaning up and repairing the damage. _It's times like these I miss Sirius and Remus hangin' 'round the place._ Jim understood, though, that the two men had only stayed with the Brewers until Sirius felt ready to once again face the people he knew from before his time in prison.

He paused by the pump at the base of the windmill to dunk his head in the cool water of the horse trough on his way to put his tools away. Jim tucked the hammer back into the toolbox on a shelf just inside the stable doorway and glanced up to Harry's window. _Wonder what the kid's up to? Damn shame, Aurie groundin' him the way she did. Hellfire, wonder what she woulda done iffen she knew Dave an' me taught 'im how ta fight like that?_ Jim just shook his head and headed up to the house. _Don't make no never mind, though, do it? I love Aurie to bits, but sometimes I have trouble knowin' what goes on under that hair of hers._

The weather remained relatively clear over the next couple of days, something for which both Jim and Dave were eternally grateful. It had rained very nearly non-stop since early May, and both of the men were thoroughly sick of mud. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, however. Due to all the rain, much of Des Moines, situated as it was on the Des Moines River, was flooded. In fact, Sec-Taylor Stadium – the minor-league ballpark – was flooded to the point where only the topmost levels of the grandstand were visible. The dam across Lake Red Rock, likewise on the Des Moines River, was churning out so much water that Dave found the concept of dams as flood-control an amusing irony. The little river which bordered the Brewer Ranch, however, though deeper than it was most years, never escaped its banks.

The weather caused the annual Independence Day party the Brewers held to be cancelled, yet something else that Harry found disappointing; he'd been looking forward to it, especially since it would be the only party he'd see that summer.

Four rain-drenched, cooped-up weeks later, Harry's birthday arrived. Harry, himself, had been a little shocked to realize it had come up so suddenly; he'd been more than a little preoccupied researching the charms that went into making the clock in his hide-a-room. Luckily, he hadn't had to start completely from scratch, a quick note to Percy via his messenger-parchments and the redhead flooed his notes over. Since there wasn't to be a big party, as had been the case in previous years, the Brewers had just a little family affair wherein much chocolate cake was eaten by all. Harry received a kit of muggle magic tricks from his now-four-year-old brother who had 'picked it out all by myself!' He also received numerous books on various topics from most of his friends, including a book that was more creature than book from Hagrid, the enclosed note had said that even though he wouldn't be taking Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid knew that Harry liked to read and hoped that he'd enjoy the book. It was quickly subdued and tied up with a length of rope. Harry wondered just how he was expected to read a book that seemed to want to eat him. Hermione had surprised him by getting him a practice-snitch. The best present, in Harry's opinion, was from Liv. The toddler had been speaking for quite some time, and could crawl anywhere (once, she'd even managed to somehow climb to the top of the refrigerator, and no one but the cherubically innocent little girl knew how she'd managed _that_), but hadn't begun walking yet. On Harry's birthday, though, she let go of the coffee table in the living room when Harry walked past, the golden retriever, Missy, right at his heel, begging for a lick of ice cream. Harry's little sister took her first toddling, unassisted steps, following him across the living room.

Amidst the general uproar her first real steps had caused, Harry wondered momentarily whether she'd been following him or the dog, before reflecting that it didn't really matter. It had happened on _his _birthday, so the _real_ reason didn't matter.

A couple of days after his birthday, Harry slammed one of the charms texts shut. "This ain't gettin' me nowhere. I c'n prob'ly make my own clock, iffen I wanted, but I'm not gonna be able to reactivate this'un 'til I get back to school. I'd almost forgot they chained _and_ synchronized the magic that went into it." He sighed and flopped onto the bed in the hide-a-room. He pulled his bear, Mr. Blue, onto his chest and stared into the plush animal's plastic eyes. "What should I do, huh? I can't get the clock ta work on my own, an' I don't wanna hafta wait 'til I get back to school to continue on this. He asked me for help, damnit, and I ain't helpin' iffen I'm just sittin' 'round doin' nothin'." Unfortunately, the bear didn't reply.

Harry sat the bear back on his bed and climbed up the ladder to his room. He noticed that his booklet of messenger-parchments was blinking, meaning that one or more of his friends had left a message for him. He flipped the book open and set to penning replies to Seamus and Dean about how his summer was progressing. Just as he was about to put the booklet away, the parchment connected to the one that Percy had flashed.

**Harry,  
How's it going with the research on the clock? Getting anywhere? You never did answer when I asked just why you wanted to reactivate it…**

Harry picked his pen back up from off of the desk and scribbled a reply. _Hi, Perce. It's going… slowly. __Very__ slowly._

**Oh? What's wrong?**

_Nothing, really, just that I remembered that we channeled a lot more magic into making it work the first time than I'll be able to do on my own. It's frustrating._

**Why ****do**** you need it working again anyway? I thought that you and Snape got rid of that basilisk?**

_We did, but I need other information now._

**Anything I can help with? I mean, I owe you for the basilisk, after all.**

_How so?_

**Well, wasn't it my ****sister**** who was going to have to deal with it on her own before you stepped in and stopped it?**

Harry smiled a little. _Guess so… I just don't know if I'm grasping at straws or not._

**From what I know of you, I highly doubt it. You've been right about everything else so far.**

Snickering, Harry replied, _Not so! If that was true, wouldn't I be the top of the class in __all__ my subjects?_

**There is more to life than books, you know. You and Hermione ought to get that into your heads.**

_I know that! I was teasing._

**I know. So was I.** A little smiley-face appeared at the end of the sentence. There was a lengthy pause before Percy began writing again. **But back to the subject at hand. Just why ****do**** you need that clock working again?**

Harry sighed, he'd hoped that this time he'd be able to figure everything out without bringing in everyone else. Alas, that wasn't meant to be. _Well… You remember that fight that Malfoy and me got into at the end of the year, right?_

**Yes. Weren't both your parents called to the school over that?**

_Yeah. Anyway, when Mom and me and everyone was in the headmaster's office, I was going to try reading my mom just to see exactly how mad she was at me. Instead of meeting her eyes, though, I ended up reading Draco's father. What I got from him didn't make much sense at all._

**What in Merlin's name are you blathering on about, Harry? What do you mean 'reading'?**

Harry grimaced. He'd forgotten that he hadn't told his friends about all his little 'gifts.' _Um… I can read people's emotions. Snape called it 'empathy' the first time we met, and according to the book he recommended, he was right._

After another lengthy pause from Percy, he finally replied. **Wow. If you could see me, I'd be sitting here like an idiot, complete with my mouth hanging open. Precognitive dreams ****and**** empathy? Sweet Merlin on a Unicycle, Harry! The next thing you'll be telling me is that you're a natural occlumens and a parselmouth, too!**

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the parchment. _Well, he's three-quarters right_, he thought, _though I'm not good at occlumency, Snape has said time and again that I am good at legilimency for only being twelve. Well, thirteen now._

**Harry? You still there?**

Shaking his head, he put his pen to the paper again. _Yeah, I am. Who told you that?_

**Told me what?**

_About the occlumency and parseltongue._

On the other side of the world, Percy Weasley was sitting at his desk in his room. He had his messenger-booklet open to Harry's page and had just taken a sip of tea after penning his last question. Upon seeing Harry's response, back in Iowa, a spattering of tan droplets appeared on Harry's half of the messenger-parchment pair.

**WHAT****!!! You ****can't**** be serious!**

_Why not? Don't tell me you believed that Professor Snape was actually giving me advanced potions lessons? He __never__ does that until you're a seventh-year._

**Two words, Harry: Bloody Hell! If I find out you're pulling my leg, I'm going to sic Fred and George on you.**

_Come on, Percy, you __know__ me. Have I ever outright lied about anything? Ever?_

**Point, but there's always a first time for everything. I'll shelve my disbelief for now, though. You were saying about Draco's father?**

"Damnit," Harry breathed to himself. "I'd hoped that he'd forgotten about that." Bowing to fate, Harry realized he wasn't going to get out of asking for help on this particular mystery.

_Well, like I said, I'd intended to read Mom, but got him instead. What I read didn't make much sense. At first, I just got his emotions – anger and some loneliness – then, when I added a little legilimency into my empathy, I got a bunch of pictures of him with this other guy and a girl when they were all teenagers, a picture of some other blonde girl, and then a whole bunch of remembered excerpts of books. All the book-parts were focused in on the word 'help.' I think it has something to do with that last response we got from the clock – the one that broke it to begin with._

**Ah, the 'they didn't notice' reply? **

_Right._

**Well… I don't know what's going on, Harry, but I'll try to help out whenever I can. It probably won't be as much as before.**

_Why not?_

**Because I got Head Boy. Besides that, though, this is my NEWT year. I doubt I'll have time for much else than studying.**

_Oh, I'd forgotten about it being your last year at Hogwarts. Congrats on making HB, though. Bet your mom was really happy._

**Dad, too. The twins and Ron weren't too keen on the idea, but Ginny seemed happy for me.**

_That's good,_ Harry replied. The two of them spent a further hour or so chatting back and forth before calling it quits for the day. When they finally sat aside the parchments, Harry checked a notepad he had nearby. It held fifteen tally marks – the number of times Percy had managed to bring up A.J. during the conversation. He broke down giggling.

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**A/N2:** Hope this lives up to your expectations. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** This chapter delves rather heavily into the sort of magick that Aurilia and Harry do together as part of their faith. It's based on my own beliefs, and to any other pagans out there who might say 'but this isn't right!' I must simply say that Wicca is a very _personal _belief system – each of us makes and follows our own path, and though those paths may be similar, no two are ever identical.

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**Chapter Two: Lughnassadh**

Not long after Harry finished up his conversation with Percy, he found himself getting a little hungry, so he headed for the kitchen. Jim was there, working his way through a roast-beef sandwich and a tall glass of lemonade. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hi, Dad. Did y'all need any help?" Harry pulled the loaf of bread across the counter and cut a chunk off before turning to the refrigerator and pulling out the peanut butter and some string cheese.

Jim looked at the remains of his sandwich and grinned at Harry, "Nope. Think I c'n finish this m'self."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not what I meant," he replied while slathering the chunk of homemade bread with peanut butter.

"I know. I think I got all the repairs done. Your ma said somethin' 'bout this bein' a special day for ya. What's she mean?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno. My birthday was yesterday, but today's Lughnassadh. Maybe somethin' she ain't told me 'bout the thing tonight." He tossed the knife into the sink and reached into the cupboard for a glass.

"Well, she told me ta remind ya not ta eat meat today, an' that moonrise is gonna be at seven-forty-seven."

"I know," Harry filled his glass with some milk and sat at the breakfast table. "Wonder what's so special 'bout tonight? I mean, I know it's a holiday, but she ain't never had ta remind me 'bout the rules before."

Jim mirrored Harry's earlier shrug. "Dunno what ta tell ya, kiddo. Dave an' me are gonna head on up ta North End come suppertime. Didja want somethin'?"

Harry thought for a few minutes, mentally going over the menu at Lovilla's main pub'n'grub. "Breaded tenderloin with mustard, pickles, an' onions… an' some breaded cauliflower."

"Your usual, then?"

"Course. What else would I have?"

"Dave said they started servin' mini-tacos."

Harry shook his head, "Not today. Mayhap next time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jim finished his last bite of sandwich and washed it down with the last of his lemonade. "Well, I oughta get back out there an' see iffen that damn mower'll run long enough ta cut the weeds down 'fore it starts rainin' again."

"Why ain't y'all got a new one iffen it's bein' that bad?"

Jim chuckled, "All it needs is a thwack or three with a hammer – show it who's boss. Will prob'ly need a new one come spring."

With that, Jim ducked out the back door and Harry finished his lunch, still wondering just what was so special about the day, other than the obvious. He got his answer after his mom returned home at six o'clock that evening.

Aurilia handed Harry a large paper bag and told him to be ready when she returned. "Where ya goin'?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to drop Liv and Cy off over at Nana's for the night. Amy would have watched them for me, but she had a case suddenly crop up that needs her full attention. Now, scoot. I'll be back before seven." Aurilia headed upstairs to pack a bag for her other children.

Harry lugged the bag – it was heavier than it looked – up to his room. He flicked on the lights and peered inside. On the top was a bundle of white cloth. Pulling it out of the sack, it revealed itself to be a hooded robe, not unlike his school robes, but lacking the buttons down the front, any sort of decorations, and had somewhat fuller sleeves. The way it moved reminded him of how the sheets acted on the clothesline in a breeze. _Mom sometimes wears one like this for rituals; I'm glad she does. She once told me that before she adopted me, she used to do the magick naked. Hers is silvery-green, though, and has a bunch of embroidery on it._ He laid the robe across the back of his reading chair and reached into the bag once more.

He came up with another paper bag, this one recognizably one from the shop. In it was a bar of his mom's homemade oatmeal soap. It smelled of white sage, cloves, and lavender; not normally his bouquet of choice – he much preferred plain, unscented soap – but he figured his mom must have a reason for the soap. He dimly recalled that white sage was used to purify the circle before a ritual, and that lavender was a natural sedative, but he wasn't sure about the cloves, other than they tasted great in cookies and cakes.

There wasn't anything else in the bag. _I s'pose my instructions are obvious._ He grabbed the soap and the robe and headed to the bathroom. Harry had just finished a lengthy shower when he heard his mom's voice through the bathroom door. "Luz?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Wear the robe that was in the bag," she said needlessly. "Meet me in the downstairs hall in twenty minutes."

"Will do," Harry replied and returned to toweling off before pulling on the robe. It seemed like it should have been too long, but it wasn't. The hem barely brushed the tops of his bare feet. He stretched out on the wooden bench that had sat with its back against the flight of stairs ever since he and his mom had moved in. He didn't have long to wait until Aurilia came down the stairs. He opened his mouth to say something, but Aurilia laid a finger over his lips and shook her head.

"Stand up, Harry." Harry followed her order, for that was indeed what it was. _I don't think I've ever seen Mom this… _serious_… outside of a ritual, an' we ain't in circle. What's up?_ "Until yesterday, you were counted as a child of this home, and as a student in the Old Ways. These two things combined were sufficient to allow you to witness and learn the Ritual Magicks – but not to use them.

"As of yesterday, your status as a child of this home changed with the arrival of your thirteenth birthday. You now enter a period of life which may best be described as an apprenticeship for adulthood. You will learn much about yourself in the coming years, and old habits will fall away like leaves in the fall." Aurilia took a breath and let it out slowly. Though it had been more years than she cared to remember since she had last lived through this pre-Ritual ritual – and the last time, she'd been in Harry's place – she could still remember each and every word her father had said and how confused she'd been. She could read the same confusion in her son's face. "With your entrance into the apprentice stage of life, you will be forced to make choices which will have increasingly drastic effects on your future. Will you walk in the shadows of the night, the light of day, or the shifting grey of twilight? It will be up to you to forge your path and to face whatever challenges, hardships, joys, and triumphs that lurk on that path. Tonight, the first Sabbat following your thirteenth birthday, you will have to make just such a choice regarding your future. First, as confirmation you learned while still a child and student and are worthy of this increase in status, recite for me the Wiccan Rede."

"Um… The Wiccan Rede…" Harry coughed a little to clear his throat before beginning, slowly at first, then with growing confidence as his memory pulled up the poem: 

_Bide ye the Wiccan laws ye must,  
in perfect love and perfect trust.  
Ye must live and let live,  
fairly take and fairly give.  
Cast the circle thrice about  
to keep unwelcome spirits out.  
To bind the spell well every time,  
let the spell be spoken in rhyme.  
Soft of eye and light of touch,  
speak ye little and listen much.  
Deosil go by waxing moon,  
chanting out the Wiccan runes.  
Widdershins go by waning moon,  
chanting out the baneful tune.  
When the Lady's moon is new,  
kiss the hand to Her times two.  
When the moon rides at Her peak,  
then the heart's desire seek.  
Heed the North wind's mighty gale:  
lock the door and trim the sail.  
When the wind comes from the South,  
love will kiss thee on the mouth.  
When the Moor wind blows from the West,  
departed spirits have no rest.  
When the wind blows from the East,  
expect the new and set the feast.  
Nine woods in the cauldron go,  
burn them quick and burn them slow.  
Elder be the Lady's tree,  
burn it not or cursed ye'll be.  
When the Wheel begins to turn  
let the Beltane fires burn.  
When the Wheel has turned to Yule,  
light the log and the Horned One rules.  
Heed ye flower, bush, and tree,  
by the Lady, Blessed Be.  
Where the rippling waters go,  
cast a stone, the truth to know.  
When ye have and hold a need,  
hearken not to others' greed.  
With a fool no seasons spend  
or be counted as his friend.  
Merry meet and merry part,  
bright the cheeks and warm the heart.  
Mind the Threefold Law ye should,  
three times bad and three times good.  
When misfortune is enow,  
wear the blue star on thy brow.  
True in love ye must ever be  
lest thy love be false to thee.  
These words the Wiccan Rede fulfill:  
An ye harm none, do what ye will._

Harry let out a long, slow breath when he'd finished, and looked at his mom. She was wearing a strange little grin that he couldn't interpret, so he reached out with his empathy. Her emotions were rather easier to decipher than her expression. She was proud of him! Despite whatever she may have felt about his actions at the end of the school year, she was still proud of him. That alone was cause for joy, in Harry's opinion. He could also tell she was still mad about the fight he'd been in, but in the moment or two he touched Aurilia's emotions, he knew – he just _knew_ – that no matter _what _he did or what happened to him, his mom would still love him.

Aurilia _was_ proud of her son. The _Rede_ had never been recited as a whole to him before, only in bits and pieces. This was why the recitation of it was such an accurate measure of a potential apprentice's capability – _Not that I had any doubt…_ she thought. _Well… Maybe a couple of small ones. Little and insignificant. So small as to be completely unnoticed._ Out loud, she said, "Very good. You have shown that you pay attention and _remember_ when it may not seem important at the time. Being able to connect the _Rede's_ parts properly tells me you know how to form a whole from fragments. Much in our magick is thus – you may know that you want to do something with it and the exact thing you want to do isn't located in the Book, so you will have to devise a Ritual which meets your needs."

Aurilia motioned for Harry to stand and follow her. She removed the key to the magick work-room from around her neck and unlocked the door. "The Ritual tonight is going to have some differences to those you have watched me do in the past, or even those few that you were able to help me with. To begin with, you will have to wait next to the door. I am going to delineate a circle on the floor and you need to stay out of it until I call for you. You will need to watch, though, and pay attention to this. This Ritual is only ever done when a student is ready to become an apprentice. It _is_ described in the Book, but you will need to remember it." Aurilia didn't say why Harry would need to remember the Ritual, and it confused him somewhat, _If it's in the Book, why do I hafta memorize it? 'Specially since it ain't done all that much?_ Harry stopped his thoughts before they could distract him any more. _Don't matter – Mom's got her reasons, I'm sure._ So, Harry leaned against the wall and watched Aurilia set up for the Ritual.

The first thing she did was start a fire in the smaller version of the native sandstone fireplace that was in the living room that graced the south wall. After that, she made sure the water-level in the constantly-circulating decorative fountain was still at an appropriate level. She then used the step-stool that hid in one of the many cabinets along the north wall to light the candles in the hanging chandelier. Once they were burning steadily, she closed the door to the hall and re-locked the door. After the door had been closed, she cleared off the altar table and moved it closer to the middle of the room, though still along the northern side. She replaced the ornate altar cloth, the large quartz crystal, and the ivory Venus figurine. Dave had crafted a pentacle tablet for her birthday two years earlier – the same birthday where Harry had given her the moving unicorn statuette. It was a circular piece of white pine, polished to a glossy shine, with cedar and mahogany inlays that depicted the woven five-pointed star and circular border around it, likewise polished so that the flickering of the candles and fireplace glinted off of it like a semiprecious stone. Her athame and boline went to their proper places, as did her great-grandfather's sword. The wooden box of sea-salt was set on the altar, and the larger wooden chest of preserved herbs went on the floor in front of it. Another wooden chest, this one somewhat newer than either of the other two and previously unseen by Harry, was placed next to the herb chest. Aurilia filled the silver goblet she'd purchased in Wales with some honey wine and set it in its place, next to a large clam shell she'd filled with water from the fountain.

With everything where it needed to be, Aurilia took a moment to look outside through the only piece of clear glass in the mountaintop mosaic. The piece was only about the size of a saucer, and was at the perfect height for Aurilia to peer through without having to bend lower or retrieve the step-stool. "It's about that time… Paper said that moonrise was supposed to be at about a quarter to eight… Ah, there she is!" Aurilia was obviously talking to herself, as her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Once the moon had begun to rise, Aurilia got a piece of chalk out of one of the cabinets and proceeded to draw a rough circle around the middle of the room, making sure that the altar was on the north side of it and not taking up more space than it should. After the circle was drawn, she retrieved her athame and stood on the western side, facing east. She raised the athame and drew a pentacle in the air. "Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the east, home to the powers of air and intellect, I call on thee!" Her voice was now forceful, now longer quiet and easily overlooked.

Harry couldn't see anything different about the room, but, like he always did when he watched his mom set a Circle, he _felt_ something… a stirring in the air, akin to the ambient energy just before a storm. It wasn't strong yet, but prior experience let him know that the little tingle along his nerves was just going to get stronger, until that tingle became a thrum. It really hit him at that moment, for the first time, he realized just how _different_ the power his mom used during Ritual was from the magic he used with his wand. It wasn't any less powerful, simply different. More raw, more tied to environmental factors, less directable, sure, but still just as powerful.

Aurilia walked to the northern point of the circle she'd drawn and repeated the pentacle in the air, facing south. "Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the south, home to the powers of fire and emotion, I call on thee!" She repeated the pentacle at the eastern point, facing west, with, "Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the west, home to the powers of water and instinct, I call on thee!" Stopping at the southern point and facing north, she incanted the final portion of the incantation, complete with pentacle, "Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the north, home to the powers of earth and mother, I call on thee!" She then stepped into the center of the Circle and stood with her legs slightly more than shoulder-width apart and her arms widespread, the dagger resting in one upturned palm and her face turned to the ceiling. "Hail to the Goddess, Gaia – Maiden, Mother, Crone – I call on thee!" With the fluidity of long practice, Aurilia grasped the athame in her fist and crossed her arms over her chest, bringing her feet together and looked down toward the floor. "Hail to the God, the Horned One – Child, Lover, Protector – I call on thee!"

The power Harry felt building all through the incantation spiked for a moment before settling into a steady thrum along his nerves. Harry knew from prior experience that the only physical manifestation of it at this point would be the gooseflesh prickling along his mom's skin – even her face, as odd as that was.

Aurilia then gracefully kneeled before the altar and opened the box of sea salt. She transferred a mound of the coarse salt to the water in the seashell with the flat of the dagger's blade. She carefully stirred it three times with the tip, "Earth into water, now you are one." She picked up the shell of water and stood up, carefully placing her feet so that she wouldn't trip on the hem of her robe. She then walked clockwise, deosil, around the Circle, sprinkling the water by dipping the athame into the shell and flicking it in front of her. "I bless this Circle by the powers of water and earth and by the power of my will. As I speak, so I intend, and so mote it be." She repeated the incantation three times, once for each circuit of the Circle, before returning to the altar.

This time, she sat the athame down and lit an incense briquette. On the grill over the little metal cup that held the charcoal, she added a pinch of herbs from the box on the floor. It only took a moment for them to begin to smoke, "Fire into air, you are now one." She repeated her earlier thrice-around-the-Circle journey with the little brazier, this time chanting, "I bless this Circle by the powers of air and fire and by the power of my will. As I speak, so I intend, and so mote it be."

Harry could smell white sage and frankincense among the other, less readily identifiable ingredients of the custom incense blend. The back-building power spiked again before settling into a dome around the circle Aurilia had delineated. Harry could see it – he'd always been able to see the boundaries of Circle – even though now he knew that Aurilia was unable to see it for herself. It was completely transparent, but shimmered a little like heat bouncing up off of hot cement, and if Harry looked closely he would be able to see a subtle opalescence to the shimmer. Aurilia finished the procedure for setting a Ritual circle with, "Let all who enter this area of protection do so under the bonds of trust and love, let no evil interfere with this evening's work, and let my magick flow true and strong. As I speak, so I intend, and so mote it be."

Harry'd never been able to tell if the closing portion of the setting ceremony did anything other than sound good, but he supposed it didn't matter. If it didn't do anything, then it wasn't adversely affecting the protections or power called, and since it sounded good, it provided some small measure of good, if only for aesthetic purposes.

Aurilia took a moment to settle herself and to try to will away the troublesome gooseflesh. Though she appreciated having a physical reminder that the powers she dealt with were _real_, she hated the tight, prickly feeling gooseflesh gave her skin. Though she wasn't completely successful in this endeavor, she did manage to lessen the reaction somewhat. She picked up her great-grandfather's sword – a simple Union Army saber, dating from the Civil War – and unsheathed it. It still smelled a little of the clove-oil she used to keep it from rusting in the humid heat of Iowa's summers. She took a moment to sprinkle a few drops of the salted water along its blade and to pass it through the incense smoke before taking a deep breath and holding it with both hands over her head. The blade was parallel to the floor and she slowly turned in a circle. "Honored ancestors, blood of my blood, I call on thee. My teachers in the Old Ways, I call on thee. I stand before you this Lughnassadh eve to bring before you the next generation of initiates. Attend and witness that you may know him when he takes his place among you."

Despite her earlier attempts at controlling her gooseflesh, it returned with a vengeance. Aurilia wished, not for the first time, that she was able to really see what was going on. Harry would tell her later, though, if she asked, so she let go of the superfluous thought. For his part, Harry could see… _something_… begin to gather in the spaces around the Circle. It took a moment for the strange, grayish vapor to resolve itself into a host of faces. They weren't ghosts, at least Harry didn't think so; they didn't look anything at all like Sir Nicolas or the Bloody Baron. There were dozens, if not hundreds of faces coalescing out of the misty vapor. Here and there, Harry could see someone who had his mom's nose, or the same jaw line. Only two or three of the faces had eyes the same shape as Aurilia's, but since they were a uniform gray, Harry didn't know if they had been green or not, but he thought that was probably the case.

When Aurilia finished her slow spin, she held the sword out at arm's length with her right hand and walked in Harry's direction until the blade was centered halfway across the edge of the Circle. She then cut a door through the shimmering surface of the protections and the portion within the arch drew to either side. The spirits present also parted to form a walkway from Harry to his mom. Looking directly at Harry, Aurilia said, "Step forth, supplicant, that you may be challenged."

Harry didn't really like the sound of 'supplicant' and liked even less the sound of 'challenged', but knew he didn't really want to back out. He crossed the distance to the edge of the Circle in a few short steps. Aurilia hadn't lowered the sword after cutting a doorway through the bubble. It was only six inches or so from his neck. Aurilia closed the distance and the cold metal brushed the spot on his neck just below where his jaw, ear, and neck all met up. He flinched back involuntarily; he knew that though the blade was old, it hadn't lost its edge – it was still just as sharp as it had been when Daniel Westlake carried it into the Battle of Gettysburg. Aurilia narrowed her eyes and repositioned the sword back to the same place. "Harold James Brewer, you have studied the Old Ways as a child of this house, as a child of my heart, if not mine by birth. Is it your intention to continue these studies as a first-level initiate to the Craft?"

Not wanting to move his head, just in case the blade slipped, Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and replied, "Yes."

"Then listen well," Aurilia exerted a little pressure on the sword. Harry could now feel just how sharp it really was, even though it hadn't broken the skin. "It is better to rush upon this blade than to enter the Circle with fear in your heart. How do you enter?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a steadying breath. It was rather unnerving to be standing with a sword pressed against his neck, even though he loved his mom dearly and would trust her with almost anything. Opening his eyes, he realized that was the answer to the question. Never mind that he knew the proper response from reading it in books or seeing it in some of the videos he and Dave watched together. It was the only appropriate reply. "With perfect love and perfect trust."

Aurilia lowered the sword and offered Harry her left hand. As he stepped across the chalk line, she pulled him into a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Well done, luz." She used the sword to close the hole she'd made in the bubble surrounding the Circle and resheathed it, setting it back in its place on the altar.

Stepping back a little, she knelt in front of the altar and motioned for Harry to do the same. When he'd joined her on the floor, his mom reached for the unfamiliar wooden box and pulled it in front of her. Now that he was closer to it, he could recognize Dave's woodworking talent in its construction. It was a golden color and carved from a single piece of wood. Harry had a feeling it came from the hickory tree that had been uprooted during a strong storm shortly before school had let out for the summer. "These are yours, Harry. A boline, athame, chalice, and censor. Your own grimore and a few other odds and ends. You may want to think about selecting a magickal name – one just for use in Circle – and making a sigil."

She pushed the box closer to Harry, and he took that as an invitation to explore its contents. It contained precisely what his mom had claimed. The athame was a small dagger, only eight inches long or so, and entirely made of steel, though it looked silver, with plain, brown leather wrapping the handle. Leather of a slightly darker shade served as a sheath. The boline was of a similar size with a slightly curved blade and a handle that had been made of deer antler. Though the athame wasn't sharp on the edges – it was solely a magickal tool – the boline had a razor's edge and a sharp point, as it was used to cut cords, inscribe candles, and chop herbs. The censor, like his mom's, was simple brass. The chalice wasn't like his mom's though. This one was made of wood, and Harry was sure his uncle had crafted it as well. The grimore was a leather-bound journal of plain, unlined pages. The chest also contained several candles in various hues, two taper candlesticks, a votive holder, a bundle of cords also in several different colors, a box of white chalk sticks, and several plastic ziplock baggies of herbs, neatly labeled in Aurilia's handwriting, and one of salt.

"Mom?" Harry asked, slowly closing the lid to the chest.

"Harry?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Aurilia smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes, "How come you were so mad at me for fighting with Malfoy?"

Aurilia sighed and shifted her position so she wasn't kneeling any more. _Damn, I think my age is starting to catch up with me,_ she thought as circulation was restored to her left foot. "I wasn't angry that you were fighting, luz. I know that, by either accident or design, you have something of a temper."

"Then how come ya grounded me?"

Aurilia reached over and tilted Harry's chin up a little so she could meet his eyes. "You broke a promise, luz. _That_ was why I was angry at you."

"Oh…" Harry hadn't remembered that he'd promised not to let his temper get the better of him after that incident the prior summer with Lockhart and Lucius Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Apology accepted, and consider yourself un-grounded." Harry beamed. "Can we return to the business at hand, however?" Harry nodded. "Okay… This chest is your traveling altar. It will do until you locate a permanent place for it. As a new initiate, not to mention my personal apprentice, you're not expected to have a personal altar; you're allowed to use mine. To that end, I have one last thing to give you." Aurilia reached up to her neck and removed a length of chain from under her robe. She pulled it off over her head and slipped it over Harry's. "It's a key to this room. I hope you won't abuse the privilege."

"I won't, I promise," Harry said, looking down at the small, bronze key dangling off a length of plain, gold chain. He knew it wasn't his mom's key – hers was silver-colored.

"Now, your grimore is your personal spell-book. I have my own – and yes, it's different than the Book. The Book belongs to the family; personal grimores are just yours alone. The only time anyone will even see it is if you want them to." Aurilia smiled a little wistfully, "I would think your grimore will end up quite interesting, considering where you go to school." Harry smiled at that.

Aurilia then explained to Harry how best to care for the articles in his box, and when the two were done talking, most of the candles in the chandelier were close to guttering and going out. The sun had long since set, too. Aurilia went through the process of returning the gathered power back to its source and closed the Circle. _It was a productive evening,_ she thought, watching Harry watch her. _I hope this year at Hogwarts isn't as action-filled as the last two seem to have been. If it is, I may just have to bring him home. I don't like the thought, but if I get another call from Dumbledore that Harry's been involved in yet another life-threatening misadventure, I am seriously going to consider it. How many times has it happened now? Hmm… the troll, that thing with his professor, that rat-man that Sirius told me about, fighting with a different professor, that Dobby thing, and a giant snake! Six times that something could have gone horribly wrong. Six times in only two years…_ Aurilia shook her head a little to stop the train of thought before it got out of hand and started putting the room to rights. After a moment, Harry helped.

With his grounding at an end, the final month of summer vacation seemed to fly past, figuratively and literally. By the time the last week of the holiday had arrived, Harry added up all the time he'd spent flying and came up with just over 150 hours.

On the last Friday of summer vacation, Harry and A.J. went with Dave to the Hollow – the wizarding suburb of Des Moines – to get their school supplies. A.J. was alternately elated and nervous about starting the Southern Iowa Institute the following Tuesday. Unlike Harry, she didn't have to worry about getting a school uniform or books, since the Institute didn't have a uniform and provided the textbooks for the students, however she did have to make sure she had all the things she needed for her classes; things like pens, paper, a new book-bag, and a fully-stocked potions kit. Harry managed to locate the books he would need for the upcoming year with little difficulty, and, as always, he had a secondary booklist from Professor Snape. This year, the professor had recommended Not-So-Common Sense: A Guide to Encourage Thinking on One's Feet in Bad Situations by Malus Forsitius. Flipping through it on the way to the checkout counter, Harry thought it looked interesting. His eye happened on the line, '…there is no witch or wizard alive that cannot be at least temporarily hindered by an old-fashioned knock to the skull…' and he had to snicker at the thought that maybe his ability to fight muggle-style wasn't such a bad idea. He resolved to resume his interrupted karate lessons the next summer.

The three of them – a witch, a wizard, and a muggle baseball enthusiast – ended their outing to the Des Moines area by indulging in a side-trip to Shakespeare's Chocolates; a tiny, out-of-the-way candy store that had been feeding the sugar needs of six generations. Harry got some of the strawberry-flavored fudge for his mom and some chocolate-covered raspberry gels for himself. A.J. spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the chocolates on display before sighing wistfully and selecting some carob instead. Harry smirked to himself, it hadn't escaped his attention that A.J. was still exchanging letters with Percy, and his slightly chubby friend was apparently interested in continuing to do so for the foreseeable future.

The night before leaving for school, Harry's mom signed the permission form for Hogsmeade trips.

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**A/N2:** And this chapter was why it took so long to start posting this story. There were RL issues to contend with, my beta had to work _and_ she got a new computer that she had to transfer all her files over to, I had to work more than I had been, and lots of other randomness. Sorry it took so long, and I hope people haven't forgotten about me! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I forgot to say so in the last chapter, but I don't own the rights to _The Wiccan Rede_. The poem is credited to the ever-popular 'anonymous'.

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**Chapter Three: And so it Begins**

The ride to Hogwarts on the Express was odd on two counts; firstly, it seemed as though Ron had 'discovered' Pink Floyd over the summer and had a small CD player that his father had charmed to work off magic, so the group of Gryffindors were treated to 'Dark Side of the Moon,' 'Meddle,' 'The Wall,' and 'Wish You Were Here' during the trip. The second piece of oddness was the fact that though Draco and his friends were in the compartment directly across the corridor from Harry's group, the two groups didn't interact at all during the journey. Not even when the snack trolley stopped between their respective doors and Harry popped out to buy sweets for everyone. His eyes met Draco's and the two glared at one another, tension and hostility nearly palpable in the air, but neither said a word.

After finally reaching Hogwarts, Harry and his friends located their seats in the Great Hall, sat through the sorting – and when Colin's little brother, Dennis, was sorted, Harry had to stifle a groan; _Just how many of them _are_ there?_ – and stuffed themselves silly during the feast. Harry was happy to notice that none of the traditional organ-meats were anywhere near him, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either Ron or Seamus who had to venture quite a ways down the table to locate some steak and kidney pie.

Once dessert had finished, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat and addressed the school. He passed along the usual start-of-term notices, including the fact that the forest was forbidden to students, that quidditch trials would start during the second week of term, and that the list of contraband items could be found in Mr. Filch's office. "And lastly, I would like to announce the fact that Professor Lupin has graciously agreed to remain on-staff, with Professor Black acting as his substitute whenever needed. Also, in conjunction with this, I believe you all will have noticed that the class 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' has been replaced with 'Self-Defense Strategies for the Magical World.'" The headmaster then thanked the students for their attention before beginning the yearly rendition of the school song. As the last tones disappeared, he bid the students a good night.

Just before Harry was about to follow his friends out of the Great Hall and up to their dormitory, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Professor McGonagall. "Good evening, Mr. Brewer," she smiled at him. "Would you and Miss Granger come with me, please?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, ma'am." Hermione, who had been just ahead of Harry had heard the request of their Head of House and echoed the sentiment.

The pair of them followed McGonagall to an antechamber just off of the Great Hall itself. Harry stopped dead in the doorway when he saw that standing next to Professor Snape, was none other than Draco Malfoy. "'Scuse me? What's this 'bout? I ain't done nothin'!" Harry was sure that someone had been spreading tales about him and Draco, trying to get one or the other banned from quidditch. After all, his probation wasn't exactly a state secret.

"Oh, stop with the melodramatics, Brewer!" Snape snapped. "We are well aware of the fact that you and Mr. Malfoy haven't yet been involved in an altercation this year."

Harry, who by now was used to the potion master's public disdain of him, played along. "Sorry, sir," he replied, "but until now, the only other times we've been singled out like this has been when we _were_ fightin'. I didn't know iffen mayhap someone'd been tellin' tales or not."

Minerva took the pause to step in, "Be that as it may, as Professor Snape has said, we know you haven't yet been fighting this year; you are both here for a different reason. The two of you, and Miss Granger, have all signed up for Spell Creation and received approval from your respective Heads of House and the headmaster to go ahead and pursue the class."

Snape picked up where McGonagall left off, almost as though they had rehearsed it. "As this is the first time in ten years we've had more than one student in a year take the course, it has been decided that you will meet in an actual class twice a week. The class itself will be taught by whichever faculty member's specialty is connected to the project you are working on at any given time. It will be overseen by the headmaster. You are to meet here on Monday and Wednesday afternoons, immediately following lunch. You will be dismissed from this class when the headmaster deems and not by the clock. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir," the three students agreed.

"The information will also be on your schedules, of course," Minerva added. "For now, though, you will need to owl-order your project portfolios if you don't already have something suitable. I don't think we need to stress how taking this particular course is a privilege which can and will be revoked if you fail to abide by the school rules."

Addressing Harry and Draco, Snape smiled evilly, "That means, you two, that if you're caught fighting with one another again, not only will quidditch be cancelled for you, but you'll be out of this class, as well."

Harry could feel himself pale and wondered if Draco was wearing the same expression. He didn't bother checking to find out, but the other boy was, indeed, paler than usual.

"Now, off to bed with the both of you," McGonagall said, shooing them towards the door. "Miss Granger, a word, please."

Doing his absolute best to ignore the blonde Slytherin, Harry hurried towards his dormitory and waiting bed, sparing only a moment to wonder what else McGonagall needed to talk to Hermione about.

Wednesday, September second dawned hot and humid. Low, shapeless clouds blanketed the sky from horizon to horizon, but weren't quite dark enough to promise rain. Adding to the oppressive atmosphere was the fact that the air was absolutely still; not a single breath of a breeze stirred. Had Harry been back in Iowa, he'd be slightly concerned and keeping an ear on the weather-radio, as such weather often preceded tornadic activity. Since he was in Scotland, though, and didn't know if tornadoes were a possibility, he followed his fellow students and ignored the weather in favor of devouring his breakfast and memorizing his class schedule.

He noticed that his schedule, though packed to the brim, was still only a single page long. Hermione's, on the other hand, covered two pieces of parchment. He further noticed that it wasn't written out in the normal table of time slots and classes, but as a detailed list. He wasn't close enough to read what it said, but he did nod towards it and ask, "What in Gaia's name is _that_?"

Hermione looked up from the parchment and flushed a little, "It's my schedule. We've got Potions first; best hurry, or we'll be late." She downed the last of her pumpkin juice and hurried from the table.

Harry frowned after her, "She's actin' oddly…"

Seamus snickered, "Harry, mate, hate to point this out to you, but she's a _girl_. They always act weird."

"True," Dean butted in. "And it's _Hermione_. When is anything she does _not_ odd?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I mean weirder than _normal_."

Ron shrugged, "She is right, though. It's almost eight. Don't want to give Snape a reason to take points for being late. Neville loses enough as it is in Potions. We don't need to start off the year in the negative."

Neville shouldered his backpack, "I know, I know. At least I make up for the loss in Herbology, though. When was the last time _you_ earned us points, hmm?"

And so, with much teasing among all five boys, they eventually made it to the potions classroom with five minutes to spare before the bells rang. After a normal class period wherein the only abnormality consisted of Malfoy and Harry totally ignoring one another, the Gryffindors headed to Charms, where Flitwick started the class with a short quiz to see how much of the previous year's information the class had retained.

After Charms, Harry and Hermione had Ancient Runes until lunch. The class was taught by a young – for Hogwarts – woman with long brown hair, Harry thought she was likely either in her late thirties or early forties. She was rather plain, with average brown eyes and was neither overly tall nor short, though she was slightly plump and wore round, gold-rimmed glasses. Her name was Virina DeAboco.

Harry and Hermione shared the class with what appeared to be the whole of Ravenclaw's third-years and a lone Slytherin girl who sat by herself in the corner of the room farthest from the door. When the bells rang to signal the start of class, Professor DeAboco stood and addressed everyone. "Welcome to Ancient Runes. I'm Virina DeAboco. As you may or may not know, the study of ancient runes is, in its simplest form, a study of magical writing.

"In this class, we will begin with studying the traditional Nordic runes – what they mean, how they're used, and how they can be combined to form Words of Power or Compound Runes. If we have time before the year is out, we will continue on to learning other magical alphabets – previous classes have studied Druidic anamologies, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and Greco-Roman mythos.

"I tend not to be very rigid when it comes to class activities and encourage learning whichever magical alphabet calls most strongly to you. We begin with the Norse runic alphabet for three reasons: it is the first magical alphabet one typically imagines when hearing the words 'ancient runes'; secondly, it is one of the easiest to memorize and I know most students would rather study something that comes easily to them than something they have to work hard at remembering; and lastly because it is my personal favorite of all the magical alphabets currently in existence." She picked up a scroll from her desk and unrolled it. "Now, we need to make sure everyone who should be here actually is here." Virina then began calling role.

The only name which wasn't met with an answer was that of 'Malfoy, Draco' and the lone Slytherin in the back of the class spoke up, "He's decided to take Care of Magical Creatures instead, professor."

DeAboco nodded and crossed Malfoy's name off the role. "Thank you, Miss Greengrass." Setting the parchment down, she then turned to the chalkboard and began drawing the Nordic alphabet while lecturing them.

When the bells rang to signal the start of lunch, both Harry and Hermione had several pages of notes – when Hermione realized that Harry used spiral notebooks back in their first year, she'd gotten some for herself. Just as they were leaving, Harry turned to ask Hermione if she was looking forward to Spell Creation, only to find that the girl was nowhere to be seen. _She probably just ran off to the bathroom,_ he thought, brushing the incident from his mind.

During lunch, he and his friends happily gossiped about their morning while they munched their way through sandwiches and chips.

At long last, the class Harry had most anticipated finally arrived. _With luck, mayhap I'll have something to put in my grimore other than the Rede. _ He and Hermione made their way across the rapidly emptying Great Hall to the small anteroom not far from the staff table. Draco was there already, sitting at one of the four tables present. He didn't remark on their appearance, though he did glare at them both. Harry returned the glare and opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione shushed him with a whispered, "Quidditch."

Normally, Hermione tended to favor seating in the front row of the classroom, but with the room being so small, and her knowledge that it was unlikely that either of the two boys would be able to get through the class without a single argument, decided to take the table directly in front of Draco's and behind the first row, which would be Harry's. The fourth table was obviously for the headmaster as there were several tomes already sitting on it. Setting his book bag on the table, Harry cast a grateful look in Hermione's direction. She shrugged, smiling.

The three of them didn't have long to wait until Professor Dumbledore appeared. "Afternoon, all," he greeted them cheerfully. "I see no one forgot about the class. Very good. As I believe you were informed, we will meet here on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. As this particular course can vary highly with whatever projects you're working on, the amount of time needed here will vary as well. There may even be days wherein we won't meet at all, but during those days, I do expect you to be pursuing your homework." Dumbledore took a seat on the table where his books were stacked. Fishing a small metal tin out of his pocket, he offered everyone mints, which they took. Albus popped one into his own mouth and talked around it. "The study of spell creation is a difficult area, hence the regulations on whom we allow to take the course. It is not a stand-alone subject like charms or transfiguration. Depending on the effect you want of your spell, it can borrow from any existing area of magic."

Hermione took his pause for breath as a chance to raise her hand. "Sir?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I was just curious… How many students wanted to take the class, but weren't allowed? And why were we and not them?"

Albus smiled, "This year, we had a total of nineteen students express interest in taking the course. They included yourselves, almost the entirety of Ravenclaw house, as well as Miss Abbott and Mr. Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff, and Miss Greengrass, Miss Parkinson, and Mr. Nott from Slytherin. Miss Parkinson, Miss Abbott, and Mr. Finch-Fletchley opted not to pursue the course; Mr. Nott was denied entry for scholastic reasons, and the Ravenclaws were talked out of it by Professor Flitwick."

"Why's 'at, sir?" Harry asked, not seeing the need to raise his hand when there were only three students present.

Albus chuckled, "Simply put, none of them have expressed the unique ability to recombine existing knowledge to a new purpose. Now this is not meant as a disparagement against the house, as we have had numerous students from Ravenclaw take the course in the past, it's just that none of the current Ravenclaw third-years have expressed the talent the faculty have seen in you three."

Dumbledore jumped off the table with a spryness that one would not have expected from a man his age, "And now I believe we ought to get to work. Since this class is mostly a self-study, I won't be teaching per se, but I will be available should you need assistance. Our first project, I believe, should be something relatively simple, combining only two or three of the areas of magic you already know. I'll give you about twenty minutes to think up something, and then we'll get started on the actual process of how to go about creating a new spell."

Harry rested his head on his hands, his elbows propped on the table before him. His first thought was to see if he could use the clock as one of his projects before he decided that it was unlikely that he'd be allowed to do so. _Hmm… What else is there? Lemme see… Before I found out about all this magic stuff, when did I wish I could do something storybook-magical?_ The words 'storybook-magical' seemed to open a flood of possibilities to him as the many fantasy books and fairytales he'd read over the years came back to him. He jotted down several ideas in his bright blue notebook. He was particularly fond of the possibility of making a ring like the one Bilbo had found in The Hobbit.

When Dumbledore signaled that their time was up, he asked, "Well now, what ideas did you come up with, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrugged a little, "Well… When I was little, I'd always wanted to be able to breathe underwater. I know there are several different things already in existence that allow for that; the bubble-head charm and gillyweed being two of these, but the charm doesn't let you actually breathe the water, and from what I read, gillyweed makes you grow gills and fins. I want a spell that will let me breathe the water without changing my form."

Albus nodded, "Very good, Miss Granger. Consider it your first project for the year. And you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry was curious as to what the Slytherin would choose, certain that it would be something that bordered on Dark. He was thoroughly surprised, however, when the blonde cleared his throat and simply said, "I want to fly without a broom."

"Ah," Albus' smile grew broad, "a desire that we see quite often in this area of study. No one has yet gotten it to work properly, yet you might have more luck. I look forward to seeing what you come up with." Dumbledore then turned to Harry. "And you, Mr. Brewer?"

"I got a lotta ideas," Harry replied, gesturing to his notebook. "I don't know what one I wanna do just yet."

"Well, what were the ideas that appealed to you most strongly?"

Harry blushed a little, "Um… Have ya ever read any Tolkien, sir?"

"I presume you mean the muggle fantasy author?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Specifically The Hobbit."

"I have indeed."

"Well… I was wonderin' iffen mayhap I could make the ring Bilbo finds."

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow and peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "You are aware, are you not, of the significance of that particular ring in Tolkien's later works?"

Harry nodded again, "Yeah, but I don't wanna bother with how it's portrayed in The Lord of the Rings, only how it is when Bilbo finds it." Though Harry couldn't see Draco, the blonde was wearing a slightly perplexed expression. He was the only one present who hadn't read the books being discussed. He jotted the titles down on a spare scrap of parchment to be looked into at a later time.

"Though I can appreciate the sentiment behind your desire, Mr. Brewer, I fear that it is not an acceptable project for this course. Such an object is inherently dangerous, and we wouldn't want it to fall into unscrupulous hands, now would we?"

Somewhat deflated, Harry's shoulders hunched, "I s'pose not, sir." Again, though Harry couldn't see him, Draco was grinning in glee.

"What of your other ideas?" the headmaster asked.

Harry looked down at his list and suddenly realized that most of his ideas centered on creating objects that, should they fall into the wrong hands, could be quite dangerous. "Um… Well…" Suddenly, he spotted one of the few ideas on the list that didn't qualify as being dangerous. "How 'bout a spell that helps folks find their way?" He'd gotten the idea from the Hansel and Gretel fairytale. "I know that 'point me' finds north, but what good is knowin' north iffen y'all don't know what way home is?"

Albus nodded, "An astute observation, Mr. Brewer, and an acceptable project." Dumbledore pulled out his wand and expertly transfigured the wall the tables faced into a blackboard. He removed a piece of chalk from a box on the desk and began to write. "Now, the first step in creating a new spell, once you have in mind the effect you're aiming for, is to determine how that spell will be delivered. Will it be a potion? A charm? A transfiguration? Or will it need to be a combination of two or more types of magic? Spells which are combined from several types of magic are harder to cast than ones of a single school. Of the ideas you have presented, both Miss Granger's idea and Mr. Brewer's would likely be single-school spells. Mr. Malfoy's idea is more complicated than that, and as I've said, no one has yet succeeded in creating a flight spell."

Dumbledore continued to lecture on the mechanics of spell creation for nearly two hours. In that time, the three students of the course took lots and lots of notes and ended the session about ten minutes before the three hours the class was slotted for on their schedules. Draco left immediately after packing his things into his satchel, Hermione lingered to ask a clarifying question about the symbols used in spell-diagramming, and Harry slowly began packing up his notes. When Hermione finally left, Harry asked, "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I know that ya said it was too dangerous ta make that ring, but what 'bout invisibility cloaks? Isn't the danger the same for one of them?"

"Yes, it is, Harry."

"Then how come y'all gave me one?"

"Because it was rightfully yours, Harry. I couldn't, in good conscience, keep it."

"I s'pose I can see that," Harry admitted. "But, sir, ain't magic an awful lot like a knife? I mean, a steak knife can be used ta cut up dinner or ya can use it ta kill someone an' even when you're usin' it for somethin' good, ya gotta be a little careful, 'cause it's sharp an' can cut you just as easily as the steak."

Albus ran a hand down his beard, "I understand the analogy, Harry, however I believe my age must be catching up with me, as I seem to have missed your point."

Harry smiled a little, "I just think that just 'cause somethin's dangerous don't mean it ain't useful; ya just gotta be a little careful."

"Ah, I see." Dumbledore shook his head a little ruefully, "I repeat what I said about my age catching up with me. I keep forgetting you are not quite like your peers, Harry. The majority of students your age are rather irresponsible, particularly if they happen to own something for which their age-mates might envy them."

Harry shrugged, "I don't know 'bout that. I seem ta remember tellin' ya that I'm just me, an' I don't know no other way ta be."

"Perhaps you will be able to do the project on the ring later in the year," Dumbledore allowed. "I will think on it and let you know by Halloween. Your first projects should be just about done by then."

Harry frowned. "Even Malfoy's?" he asked. "Thought you said that it ain't been done before."

"That I did, Harry. However, even when I know one of your ideas will fail to produce the effect you wish, I will allow you to continue in researching it. After all, knowing how to deal with failure is essential to your life. More so, perhaps, than knowing success. And who knows? Mr. Malfoy just may manage to surprise me after all." Albus checked his pocket watch, "Ah, I do need to go, Harry. I look forward to our next chat." He strode from the room, leaving Harry to mull over the headmaster's words.

Thursday was just as busy as Wednesday had been, and Harry had Arithmancy sandwiched between Herbology and Transfiguration before lunch. Arithmancy was taught by a nerdy-looking fellow named Arnold Vector who was somewhere around McGonagall's age. After lunch, the Gryffindors had Self-Defense with Remus for two hours, and finally, Astronomy at midnight. Their first class on Fridays was History of Magic, wherein Binns was as dull as ever.

Whenever Harry found himself with a spare moment – which were, admittedly, few and far between – he slowly began gathering details on Lucius Malfoy's history. While looking through books for his Spell Creation project in the library, Harry stumbled across a shelf of what he would call yearbooks, but were entitled 'Hogwarts Annual' followed by the school year which they covered. There was an enormously thick one that covered 'Founding to 1890', but each of the other books covered only a single year. Sidetracked, Harry leafed through a couple. The books had a picture of each student, followed by a list of what extracurriculars that person participated in as well as any awards they'd earned. Intrigued, Harry began flipping through the annuals closer to modern times. In the one for the 1960-61 school year, he located a few familiar faces. First, he found the entry for Lucius:

_**Malfoy, Lucius A. X. **__Seventh-year Slytherin, Capitan and Beater for Slytherin Quidditch Team, prefect, Head Boy, Member of the Slug Club, Fifth-tier Duelist, earned twelve OWLs. Twenty-second generation of the Malfoy family to be educated within Hogwarts._

The picture was about three inches high and two and a half or so wide. It showed a Lucius that could easily be mistaken for an older Draco. The photograph was a simple portrait, and was blinking up at Harry almost as though wondering why the book was open. Four pages later, Harry stopped short at the photograph. It was the same red-headed girl that he had seen in Malfoy's mind.

_**Prewett, Molly A.**__ Seventh-year Hufflepuff, prefect, Sixth-tier Duelist, Member of the Gobstones Club, earned eleven OWLs. Ninth generation of the Prewett family to be educated at Hogwarts._

Harry's jaw was drooping open a little. He hurriedly flipped to the 'W' section and found the entry for Ron's dad.

_**Weasley, Arthur S.**__ Seventh-year Gryffindor, prefect, Fifth-tier Duelist, Keeper for Gryffindor Quidditch Team, earned ten OWLs. Twenty-first generation of the Weasley family to be educated at Hogwarts._

The picture above the entry was the boy he'd seen with the girl in Lucius' mind. _Why would Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hang out with Malfoy? Don't Malfoy and Arthur hate each other?_ Harry slowly closed the book and reached to set it back in its place. However, distracted as he was by his thoughts, the book fell. Harry stooped and picked it up. Flipping the book over, he saw that it had landed open in a section of group photographs. There was one of Molly, Arthur, and Lucius standing on a dueling platform in what Harry recognized as the Great Hall. Molly and Arthur were looking at Lucius with expressions that belied worry, concern, anger, and hurt. Harry closed the book once more and made sure it returned to its place on the shelf. Sitting back at his table, he flipped to an empty section of his notebook and began scribbling down the information he'd read in the annuals. He then began thinking, and that was how Dean and Neville found him three hours later, tapping his pen against the tabletop, staring off into space.

"Harry?" Dean said, approaching their friend.

"Hmm?" Harry replied, still staring at a spot somewhat above and in front of the middle shelf of the bookcase directly across from him.

"You all right?" Neville asked.

Harry blinked and shook his head, "Um… Yeah. Think so. Sorry, guys, but I need to go. Practice later, maybe?"

"Sure thing, mate," Dean replied as Harry hurriedly gathered his things and disappeared.

"What do you suppose he's up to now?" Neville asked, digging his homework out of his backpack.

"No idea," Dean grinned, "but it's bound to be interesting, yeah?"

Neville laughed, "Like life is anything but around Harry. Suppose we should talk to the others?"

Dean shrugged, "Maybe when we know more. For now, though, let's just get through that essay Flitwick assigned."

Back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry sprinted up the stairs to his room and sprawled out on his bed, a blank parchment before him. He spent a moment to collect and organize his thoughts before beginning to write.

_September 30, 1993  
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,_

_This is Harry Brewer. I was wondering if you would help me out a little with something I found in the library today._

_I was looking for books to help me with my Spell Creation project when I stumbled across the Hogwarts Annuals. I flipped though a couple and found a picture of you two with Lucius Malfoy. I thought that you, Mr. Weasley, hated Mr. Malfoy?_

_If I'm butting in where I'm not wanted, tell me so and I'll try to ignore my curiosity._

_Sincerely,  
Harry Brewer_

A week later, Harry received a reply.

_2 October, 1993  
Dear Harry,_

_It's good to hear from you. You wouldn't want to see if you could get our children to write more often, would you?_

_So, you located the Hogwarts Annuals. Molly and I aren't as surprised as I think we should be… Oh, well. Life happens, right?_

_I do hate Lucius, you have that much right, but that wasn't always the case. When we were children, he and Molly and myself were rather close friends. That friendship continued when we entered Hogwarts and were sorted into separate houses. To this day, I still have no idea what changed. All I know is that when the summer holidays began following our sixth year, Lucius was our friend. He spent the summer traveling with his family, and when he returned, he'd changed._

Here the handwriting shifted. Harry recognized it as belonging to Molly.

_Arthur's never been one to explain things in a logical manner, Harry. Shall I see if I can explain the situation a little more clearly?_

_Yes, Lucius, Arthur, and I were close friends for a long time. Lucius and I were something more than that at one point. Just before the summer after our sixth year, we were planning to marry after our seventh year was finished – despite his family's wishes. His family had set up an arranged marriage for him with this twiggy little blonde from the Black family. She was a couple of years younger than us._

_Like Arthur, I don't know what happened that summer, only that when we returned to Hogwarts to begin our seventh year, Lucius was… odd. He stopped laughing and joking with us, took to ignoring us completely, as a matter of fact. We had no idea what was going on, and one day we just couldn't take it any more. We confronted him._

_The confrontation started off rather well, with only a tenseness present, but it soon escalated into a shouting match._

The handwriting switched back to Mr. Weasley's.

_That's putting it mildly, mind. I'm sure you're aware of the insults that can fly when tempers are hot._

Harry grinned, he could indeed imagine the insults and heated words that were exchanged that day. In his mental picture of the confrontation, he could also see barely-restrained wands held stiffly to their sides… Shaking his head, Harry continued to read.

_Needless to say, neither of us had much to do with Lucius after that day. We were hurt badly by his betrayal of our friendship, and even now miss the boy he used to be._

_And as you can guess, Molly and I eventually married._

_Though we haven't really talked about this with our children, we haven't really kept it from them either._

_Hope you're doing well,  
Arthur and Molly Weasley_

_P.S. Something tells me that there's more to your story than you're admitting, Harry. I don't know about Molly (I'm adding this post-script without her), but I remember the stories Ron, Percy, and the twins have told us about your adventures at Hogwarts. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this seems like more of the same. I'll happily answer whatever questions you come up with, and I hope that your year goes well. – A.W._

Harry snickered a little at Arthur's post-script. _It seems my reputation precedes me. Mayhap Mr. Weasley'll wanna help out? Specially since he an' Malfoy were so close an' all…_

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry groaned inwardly and tucked his letter into his pocket. "Yeah, Colin?"

The second-year had his brother, Dennis, with him and began talking a mile a minute. "This is that Harry Potter kid that's in all the books we read last summer, Dennis, except now his name's Harry Brewer and…"

_This is gonna be a _long_ morning,_ Harry thought, bleakly poking at his breakfast.

* * *

**A/N2:** I know the Lexicon has Arthur, Molly, and Lucius all in different years, but I have to say once more that this is AU. I've tinkered with cannon because I'd never really seen anything quite like this plotline used before. I hope everyone is enjoying it. The next chapter or two should be up no later than Monday. Happy reading!  



	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** And here's chaper four, ahead of schedule.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Limited Success  
**

The month of October progressed with its normal cycle of cooling temperatures, riot of color, and class after class of assignments, projects, and essays. The amount of time Harry had to work on the Lucius-issue was severely limited. Harry hadn't realized when the year began just how much homework the professors seemed to feel was necessary when he'd signed up for his classes, and had he known, he would have likely chosen Care of Magical Creatures and Divination like Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean. When he told this to Remus and Sirius, however, they just laughed and said that he might think he had a lot of work _now_, but by the time his OWLs rolled around in a few years, he'd be looking back and wishing for the homework load he was currently experiencing. Harry rolled his eyes at that, but wisely said nothing. He was doubly glad when the quidditch season began – with Wood now a seventh-year, they were training _every_ Tuesday, Thursday, _and_ Saturday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, training was three hours long, but it was Saturdays that hit the hardest – nearly eight full hours of drills and laps and skirmishes and memorizing plays. Harry was seriously reconsidering his like of the sport, but found that he loved flying too much to quit.

During the week prior to Halloween, the Friday immediately beforehand, to be precise, Harry managed to finally _finally_ make some progress in his occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. The lesson had begun, as all the others Harry had endured, with him entering the professor's office down in the dungeons. The two would talk about whatever was going on in potions class for a while, or whatever other topics of conversation came up, and without warning, the professor would attack using his legilimency.

On that Friday, however, Harry's thoughts were wandering. There was something important hovering just outside his reach, something to do with the Lucius-issue, but try as he might, the idea just wouldn't surface. He was having difficulty following Snape's conversation about the recent developments in restorative potions – normally a topic he would have found fascinating. Though he tried to listen to the professor, his thoughts kept trying to force the idea flickering just out of his reach. And then, as was customary, Severus hit Harry with a legilimens attack. Harry hardly noticed.

Always before, when Snape entered Harry's mind, he was bombarded by a chaos of memories, sensory input, and personality fragments. This time, though, he was shocked to find Harry's mind almost completely still. Severus froze in place, wondering for a moment if his spell had gone awry. He then felt Harry's presence nearby almost at the same time he saw that not all was still and dark in the boy's mind. There was a distant flash, almost like the light of a candle as it would be seen on a totally dark night at a distance of some leagues. After a moment, there was another flicker off to the side, but he got the sense that the second flicker wasn't what Harry was interested in.

"Brewer?" Severus queried.

"Oh… Professor Snape." Harry's presence coalesced into a visible form.

"What is going on?"

"Sorry, just thinking."

Severus withdrew from Harry's mind and cleared his throat. "Brewer?"

Harry seemed to snap out of a daze. He grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry again, sir. I'm not very good at this… Besides, I've been tryin' ta get that idea to come for a couple of days now, an' it ain't cooperatin' none."

Snape brushed the comment aside. "Do you always do that when you're trying to grasp an idea, Brewer?"

Harry shrugged, "Yes an' no. Only the ideas that don't wanna come. Why?"

"Because, Brewer, _that_ is the mental state you're supposed to maintain to create occlumentical barriers."

Harry's eyes widened. "Damn…" he whispered. "Ya mean that iffen I c'n keep that up all the time, legilimency won't work?"

Severus shook his head, "Not precisely, but it _is_ the beginning."

After his limited success, Snape increased their weekly lessons to three times per week, thus limiting even more of Harry's free time. By the time he finally got around to talking to his friends about his latest 'project', it was almost December. Unfortunately, the reaction he received from his friends was… disappointing.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Why do we care what's going on with that git?" was Ron's precise, explosive reaction when Harry finally told them about what he'd seen in Lucius' mind.

Hermione, as well, had a predictable reaction with, "You say you can do legilimency, and that Professor Snape is teaching you occlumency?"

Neville looked as though he was still trying to reconcile his ingrained belief that parseltongue was evil with the fact that he _knew_ Harry was the least-evil person he'd ever met. Dean and Seamus were wearing similarly perplexed expressions, silently agreeing with Ron. The twins were following Neville's example. Percy was the only one who didn't show any sort of surprise on his face. Ginny, who had tagged along, almost unnoticed, behind the twins narrowed her eyes at Percy and resolved to talk to him sometime soon. She'd figured that he and Harry were merely tolerant of each other – Percy _was _four years ahead of Harry, after all – but that supposition wasn't supported by the evidence now before her.

"Yeah, Snape's teachin' me, but that ain't got much to do with this. An', Ron, I think we should help him because he _asked_ me to help." Harry smirked a little, "Besides, he an' your folks used ta be friends, an' I'm pretty damn sure your mom an' dad wouldn't mind havin' him back again."

The look which graced the face of every Weasley present was enough that Harry momentarily wished that Colin and his ever-present camera were available to immortalize the moment.

"But… but… but…" Ron stammered.

"Dad _hates_ Malfoy!" Percy nearly shouted.

"Almost as much as _you_ hate _Draco_," Ginny added.

Prepared in advance for this eventuality, Harry dug out the 1961 and the 1955 Hogwarts Annuals. He showed the group the pictures of Molly, Arthur, and Lucius as they appeared in the 1961 book – just their individual entries, not the few group-shots, as most of _those_ were decidedly unfriendly. Once that book had made the rounds, he showed them the group-photos in the 1955 book, pictures that showed the three as first-years playing Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and reading by the lake.

When Ginny handed Harry back the Annual, there was a profound silence. Harry broke it with a simple, "Thoughts?"

Percy shook his head and muttered, "I didn't realize Mum was a Hufflepuff… Thought she was a Gryffindor, like Dad…"

His siblings all nodded at that. Harry shrugged. "So she was in a different house, so what? But… Can't y'all see? Somethin's not right… An' Malfoy asked me for help. I intend to do as much as I can, but I might need some help on this ev'ry now an' then. I'd wanted ta see iffen mayhap we couldn't get that clock workin' again…"

"I don't know, mate," Neville said, clasping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I read some on what we did with that clock… It's really dangerous… We're lucky it didn't explode the first time we worked on it. Considering my and Seamus' track record with explosions of a magical sort –"

"Don't forget us!" the twins simultaneously interjected.

Neville grinned at them, "Yeah, the twins, too… Considering how things like to blow up on and around us, I really don't think we should be messing with it."

Hermione nodded, "Neville is right. We really shouldn't have done it the first time. I don't know _what_ I was thinking…"

Harry sighed and lowered his gaze to the floor. "I s'pose I c'n understand that, but are y'all gonna help me out on lookin' inta this?"

This time it was Dean who spoke for the group, "We'd like to, Harry, but… We've all got a lot of homework to deal with… I don't think we'll have the time."

Harry sighed again and closed his eyes. "Yeah… I guess so." Opening his eyes, he smiled at them. "Can't blame me for askin', though, yeah?"

"Ask anytime, Harry," Hermione said. "Well… I _do_ need to finish my homework for Arithmancy. See everyone later?"

A round of nods followed, and quickly the third-year Gryffindor boys' dorm room was empty of everyone but Percy, Ginny, and Harry. Percy echoed Harry's earlier sighs. "They don't believe you."

Harry nodded, "So I noticed. What about you two?"

Ginny squared her shoulders and met Harry's eyes. "I don't know about Percy, but _I_ believe you. I've met you a couple of times now, and even though we don't really hang out together all that much, I've never known you to lie. You also have a habit, or so I've been told, of finding things that need to be fixed. Percy told me about last year with the basilisk, and I remember seeing the headlines in the _Prophet_ about Sirius Black during your first year."

Percy nodded, "I agree with Gin. You've never lied to me that I know of. You have kept secrets, but that's not the same thing. I'll help as much as I can, but I don't know how much that will be. I had a hard enough time getting this hour free. If I find anything, though, I'll let you know. Through the messenger-parchment, if I have to."

"Messenger-parchment?" Ginny asked. Harry explained about them and gave her one of his blanks after spelling it paired with a blank page in his book. "I'll let you know, too. I don't think, what with your probation because of fighting with his son, that you'll be able to get much information out of the teachers."

Harry winced a little, "Yeah, you might be right about that."

* * *

**A/N2:** Thanks, as always, to my readers, my reviewers, and my fantastic beta, Aurilia!  



	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Yeah, I know the last chapter was a little short, and I have to say that this one's even shorter, but I hope everyone likes it.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Southern Iowa Institute  
**

A.J. sat in her Magical Theory class, doodling in her notebook. She was a little disappointed in the Southern Iowa Institute; it wasn't quite how she'd imagined it would be. She still had to take all her normal subjects like math and science, history and English, but she was so used to being ahead of the game, so-to-speak, for those classes that she was bored by the normal curriculum of the ninth grade. The only end to the drudgery were her magical classes, and there weren't very many of those for the first semester of ninth grade. Thus far, her magical education was limited to Magical Theory and Control. Magical Theory was solely a book-oriented class and Control was a general baseline class that covered a little bit of anything magical.

She found herself wishing she could have gone to Hogwarts with Harry, at least then she wouldn't feel so totally, completely _bored_ with her classes. Even if they were as easy at Hogwarts as they were at SII, at least she'd be with her best friend. _Percy would be there, too,_ she thought, a little smile quirking the corners of her mouth. She really liked the tall redhead with the horn-rimmed glasses. They knew each other rather well, too, what with all the letters they'd traded since meeting during Christmas vacation during Harry's first year at Hogwarts. He was intelligent and funny; his sense of humor a little dry, but she _liked_ that – it was better than the snickering toilet humor most boys seemed to prefer. And, if she were honest with herself, he was cute, too.

"A.J.?"

A.J. snapped her attention back to Amber Lewis, the teacher for Magical Theory. "Yes, Mrs. Lewis?"

"I was just asking the class who knew the basic theory underlying all transfiguration-class spells. Obviously, you were not paying attention. Please go to the office until you are better prepared to pay attention in class."

A.J. ground her jaw so tight, she was surprised she still had teeth. This was another thing she despised about SII; the majority of the teachers were… Bitter, unforgiving, and cruel were how she wanted to describe them, but in her anger at being singled out so unfairly, those words were unavailable to her. _Bitch_, was what she thought, angrily stowing her notebook and pen in her bag. _I notice she didn't say a damn thing about Jason, and he's _asleep_! It's not fair!_

She knew it wouldn't do to argue with the teacher, though. She'd tried that her first day at SII and had been in after-school detention until five. Her parents hadn't been at all happy about that. She strode down the hallway to the office and sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk from the principal. "Morning, A.J." Donald Umbrey smiled at her.

She glared back. "I s'pose it is mornin', at least."

The principal chuckled, "Always a pleasure. What brings you by today?"

"Lewis," A.J. replied. "Dunno why, though."

"That's quite all right," Mr. Umbrey replied. "I'm sure I'll get an earful during lunch."

Donald Umbrey was a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, cropped short, and the bearing of someone who had once been physically very powerful, yet now had gone slightly to seed. He was almost freakishly tall, standing at almost seven feet even, and still boasted the broad shoulders and thick muscles he'd gained while in the military, though he now also sported a potbelly beneath his blue suit-shirt and red tie, courtesy of his addiction to double-glazed donuts, chocolate milkshakes, and caramel-pecan pie. Along with the school councilor, Penny Stoat, he was one of the few adults that actually seemed to enjoy A.J.'s company at SII.

A.J. snorted, "I'm sure you will." She slouched back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. "I been meaning to ask, Mr. Umbrey… Just why _is_ it that none of the teachers like me any?"

Umbrey shook his head, "I'm not really sure, A.J, though if I had to guess, I would imagine that you manage to intimidate them." A.J. opened her mouth to respond, but Umbrey held up a hand to forestall her. "It's not something you can help, A.J. It has more to do with the fact that you are naturally highly intelligent. You're already a member of MENSA, you get perfect grades without trying on your tests and homework. You are smarter than they are _and_ they know it. Also, as your first day here proved, you're not at all shy about calling them when they're in the wrong. Without meaning to, you threaten their positions, their authority."

"Oh." A.J.'s voice was soft. She hadn't thought about it like that. "I didn't realize that… It's just that the work they give is _far_ too easy… I don't even have to think about it, the answers are just _there_."

Umbrey nodded, "I realize that. I _am_ working on trying to find an acceptable solution for the situation, Miss Stoat is also working on this with me. When we think of something, we will let you know."

A.J. smiled a little, an idea occurring to her. "Mr. Umbrey?"

"Yes, A.J.?"

"I think I have an idea…"

* * *

**A/N2:** Hmm... Just what could A.J. be thinking of, I wonder? I suppose everyone will have to wait and see! The next chapter should be out sometime tomorrow. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** rant/ As I'm having a heck of a time getting the formatting on ffn to comply with what I want it to do for the next chapter, it may be a couple of days before it's published. Why doesn't ffn want to deal with certain types of formatting and punctuation combinations? It's more than a little frustrating! ./rant

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**Chapter Five: Tiny Steps Forward**

Almost before Harry realized it, the Yule Holiday was looming just around the corner. Between classes and quidditch – the first game Gryffindor had played was against Hufflepuff, and the resulting win, by Gryffindor, had led to Oliver relaxing a little, but not backing off about the amount of training the team was enduring – occlumency and Spell Creation, not to mention his investigation into the life of one arrogant, blonde pureblood who'd asked for help, Harry hadn't had much time to think on how quickly time was passing. He had managed to secure a small amount of additional information about Lucius, though. During an occlumency session with Professor Snape, he'd finally figured out how to forcibly eject the man from his mind and had ended up inadvertently in Severus' own mind. Likely because he'd been thinking about Lucius so much recently, the memory he'd seen had centered on the man.

Snape was standing at the front door to a massive manor home out in the country, his trunk setting at his side. Lucius opened the door and smiled coolly, "Severus, so glad you could make it. I have someone I want you to meet; he's offered to pay for your mastery in Potions if he finds the rumors regarding your ability haven't been exaggerated."

Harry now knew that even though Snape was significantly younger than Lucius, he had at least met the man twice, and likely more often. Lucius had recognized him in the memory, and greeted him by name. From the presence of the trunk, he was sure that his potions professor had stayed with the Malfoys at one time. However, he didn't have time to talk with his professor before break began, so he resolved to do so when they returned.

The day before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave, Ginny flagged Harry down in the Great Hall. After supper was over, the two of them found an out-of-the-way storage nook that lacked portraits. Harry was momentarily grateful that it was a little early in the evening for the older students to be out trysting, as the area he and Ginny were now in was a prime location for such behavior. "Whacha need, Gin?"

Ginny smiled, "Well… It took a little convincing, but I talked to McGonagall and Flitwick about Malfoy Senior."

"Convincing?" Harry asked.

She nodded and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah… Had to tell them that though I know that Dad hates Malfoy, I'd found a bunch of pictures of when they were kids that showed them hanging out, and that Mum and Dad wouldn't talk to me about it."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, "Good cover story, just the right blend of fact and artistic detail. Go on."

Ginny snickered, "'Artistic detail'? I'll have to remember that one. Anyway, I did find out that you were right – Malfoy, Mum, and Dad all used to be really close friends. They rarely did anything without each other, right up through the end of their sixth year. I further found out that Dad had an enchanted record player that was confiscated that year, and that his worst subject was Transfiguration. Mum's worst subject was History, and that if there were such an award, she would have earned 'the most detentions given for a single breach of the rules' – that's according to Flitwick. Apparently, Fred and George are mere _amateurs_ compared to Mum. She'd managed to prank the old astronomy professor into thinking all the telescopes were these giant-killer-monster-things. The professor ended up causing almost six thousand galleons' worth of damage to the tower."

Harry joined Ginny in laughing for a couple of minutes. "What about Lucius?"

Ginny shook her head, "Not much new in that quarter. I found out that they stopped talking to each other when their seventh year started, and Malfoy started spending all his time with his fiancé, Narcissa Black – she was a few years younger than he was. The only other bit of information I found out was that he and Narcissa ended up getting the exact same number of NEWTs, along with the same grades for the classes they 'shared' –she took all the same classes he did, only… um… three? Four? Years later."

Harry frowned, "Isn't that, well… _weird_?"

Ginny shrugged, "Don't know. If they were studying together all the time before Malfoy finished his last year, and if she and he kept in touch after he left, I can see how it could have happened."

"Still…" Harry filed the information in the 'Lucius-issue' part of his brain. "Didn't he end up marrying that Narcissa girl?"

Ginny nodded, "Yeah. You might want to talk with your godfather, though."

"Why?"

"Because she's his cousin," Ginny replied, matter-of-factly. "I thought you'd realize they were related because of the name…"

Harry shrugged, "Lotsa folk back home have the same last names; don't mean they're related, though."

"Oh. How come?"

"Mainly because the US let pretty much anyone immigrate for a long, long time and most of the time, there weren't any ways to check that the names they gave the immigration official really were their names. That's also the main reason why names like 'Smith', 'Brown', 'Black', and 'White' are so common back home." Harry grinned, "Thanks, Ginny. I'm going to go finish packing for the holidays. See ya later?"

Ginny returned the smile, "Sure."

Harry hurried towards Gryffindor Tower, but veered down a nearby hallway at the last possible moment. He headed, instead, towards the professor's quarters. He'd visited with Remus and Sirius previously in their rooms, and so knew where they were. He knocked on the door. "Just a moment," Remus called back, his voice muffled through the heavy wooden door.

When Remus opened the door, Harry could tell he'd interrupted something he _really _didn't want to think too deeply about. "Good evening, Harry, what can I help you with?" Remus asked, smiling and tying his housecoat.

Pushing disturbing thoughts forcibly from his mind, Harry asked, "Is Sirius here?"

Remus nodded, "Yes. Wait here a second, all right?" Remus closed the door. Harry didn't have long to wait before Sirius appeared, wearing an inside-out t-shirt, a pair of Remus' corduroys, and mismatched slippers.

"You know, Sirius, _I_ learned to dress myself by the time I was three… Obviously, you never really hit that milestone, didja?" Harry snickered.

Sirius looked down and did something that Harry never would have expected – he blushed. That just made Harry laugh all the harder. Gathering the tattered remnants of his dignity, Sirius asked, "Did you want to see me just to poke fun?"

Harry shook his head, still gripped by laughter. "N-no," he gasped out, "not at all."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sirius leaned against the wall. "Well, just why did you need me?"

Slowly, the giggling started to taper off. It was very slow going, as every time Harry looked at Sirius, new waves of chuckles would surface. Eventually, though, the laughter had died down to the occasional snort. "Sorry, Sirius," Harry said, "You just look ridiculous."

"As your fit has proven," Sirius dryly replied. "What _did_ you need though, besides a good laugh at my expense?"

Harry took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I actually wanted to ask you about your cousin, Narcissa."

Sirius grimaced, "Her? What for?"

Harry shrugged a little, "Call it curiosity."

Sirius ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Not much to say, really. She's… um… fifteen years older than me. Tall, blonde, bitchy. Selfish. Taste for the overdramatic. Pales in comparison – both figuratively and literally – to her older sister, Bellatrix. Why?"

Harry shrugged again. "Just curious." He glanced at his watch. "I should prob'ly finish packin'. See ya later." Harry headed for the tower before Sirius could reply.

"Odd…" Sirius muttered to himself.

"What did Harry want?" Remus asked from the doorway to their quarters.

"Honestly? I don't have a clue. Asked about Narcissa, then ran off. Oh, after laughing at me for a good five minutes."

Remus chuckled. "Well… You _do_ look rather absurd. quaeso quid tu hominis es? (1)"

Sirius smiled at the tone of fond exasperation in Remus' voice. "vah, quid rogas? (2)"

"delīras, (3)" Remus replied.

Sirius' smile broadened, "tu nihilo minus. (4)"

Remus nodded, "fortasse. (5)"

"scilicet (6)," Sirius rejoined Remus in their rooms, kicking the door shut behind him.

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**A/N2:** Thanks again to everyone who reads this insanity. The translations for the Latin are as follows: 

1. _quaeso quid tu hominis es? _- Whatever am I to think of you?  
2. _vah, quid rogas?_ - Oh, how can you ask?  
3. _delīras _- You're out of your mind.  
4. _tu nihilo minus_ - So are you.  
5. _fortasse _- Could be.  
6. _scilicet _- Naturally.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Okay, after _hours _of work, I think I got it to look something like it should.

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**Chapter Six: Now We're Getting Somewhere**

The Christmas holiday passed far too quickly for Harry's taste, between the muggle Yule party and the magical one, exchanging gifts, and the fact that Neville, Seamus, and Dean all got to spend a couple of days with Harry and his family. For that year, Harry received two gifts of rival importance in his mind – Dave had scored four tickets to go see the Atlanta Braves play the Florida Marlins the following summer, and Sirius had used his previously-mentioned friend in the broom industry to obtain two tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, likewise the following summer, though much later in the season than the baseball game. Another of his gifts had been completely unexpected; Professor Snape had given him his own copy of his Advanced Potions textbook, complete with hundreds of side-notes and observations, most of which were in a slightly messier handwriting than the notes Snape had added just prior to giving Harry the book. There was one note in particular that drew Harry's attention – it was just beside a teenaged Snape-scrawl of 'sectumsempra – for enemies.' Snape had written, _If I ever hear of you even attempting this spell in anything but a life-or-death situation, I __will__ disembowel you and sell your remains on the black market._ Harry shuddered every time he saw the dire warning and had to wonder just what the spell did. He resolved to ask the professor the next time he saw the man outside of class.

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry got his chance to speak with the professor after dinner their first night back in the castle. Harry ducked out of dinner relatively early and headed down to Snape's classroom; his friends were so sidetracked in chattering about their holidays, they didn't notice him leave. Harry knew that Snape kept wards on his classroom that would alert the man he was there. He settled against a worktable and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

Snape billowed into the room, resembling nothing so much as the giant vampire bat that most of the students liked to call him. He halted when he spotted who was violating his classroom. "Brewer."

"Professor Snape," Harry returned the man's nod of recognition. "Had a couple of questions for you – thanks for the book, by the way."

Arching one eyebrow, Snape mimicked Harry's posture by leaning on his desk. "What did you need, Brewer? And will this require auror involvement – again?"

Harry chuckled a little, "Don't think so, sir. Just wanted to know what you know about Draco's dad."

Snape's eyebrow crept a little higher, nearly reaching his hairline. "Lucius? Why?"

Harry shrugged, smiling innocently. "Call it curiosity, sir. That'll do for now."

"For now?" Snape's eyebrow was now dangerously high. "You're certain this won't involve aurors – again?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "In all honesty, sir, I really didn't have anything to do with the aurors coming last year – it was Hermione who'd contacted them."

"And you had _nothing_ to do with that?"

Harry shrugged again, "Hey, all I did was point out to her that some of the dates in Lockhart's books overlapped. She did the rest on her own."

"Right," Snape dryly replied, his eyebrow lowering back to human position.

"Anyway…" Harry said pointedly, "about Lucius Malfoy…"

"What about him?"

"What do you know about him?" Harry asked again.

Snape sneered, "More than I would wish."

Harry made a 'go on' motion with his hands.

Severus barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Does this have anything to do with your and Draco's probation?"

Harry shook his head, "Not really."

"Then I fail to see just why you need the information."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Ya know, it's easier to get Mom to tell me where the Yule presents are hidden than to get you to answer a question you're bound an' determined _not_ to answer."

Snape snorted in amusement. "I think I should be insulted."

Harry grinned, "At least I know there ain't nothin' wrong with your hearing. But, are ya gonna answer my question or should I continue stumblin' on in the dark?"

Severus decided to humor Harry – at the very least it would prove entertaining at some point. "Very well. Lucius was born in 1944 and began Hogwarts in 1955. He graduated in 1961 and married Narcissa Black in 1963, just after she graduated Hogwarts. In 1980, they had Draco. Currently, I believe the Malfoy family controls somewhere in the neighborhood of six percent of wizarding Britain's gold, compared with the eight percent controlled by your dogfather, the four percent held by the Parkinsons, and the five percent held in trust for the Potter line."

Harry _did_ roll his eyes. "That ain't quite what I had in mind, sir."

Severus smirked. "Then perhaps you should be more clear in your request."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "I know that you know that I know you at least _visited_ him when you were a kid. Wanna try again, only this time try not to sound like a bio for _Forbes_."

"'_Forbes_'?"

"Muggle financial magazine. Come on, sir. Please?"

Severus shrugged, "I stayed with him briefly as a teenager. He put me in contact with the man who sponsored my mastery. There isn't much else to say."

Harry sighed, "Thanks, sir." He turned to leave.

"You will let me know what this is about?" Snape stated, though it came across more as a question.

Harry paused by the door, he shot a grin over his shoulder, "Maybe." He had disappeared before Snape could reply.

_I'm going to have to get him back for that_, Snape thought, glaring lightly at the space occupied by the only Slytherdor he'd ever met – though, truthfully, he'd wondered if Albus had likewise argued with the Sorting Hat as a child.

In Charms class the next day, Professor Flitwick began covering rejuvenation charms. "Now, the primary purpose behind a rejuvenation charm is to give added 'youth', so-to-speak, to a variety of items. Can anyone think of an application of rejuvenation charms?"

Several hands raised, and Flitwick called on Seamus. "They're used a lot in food, making bread and jam and stuff like that stay fresh longer."

Flitwick nodded, "Correct, Mr. Finnegan. Take a point for Gryffindor. Anyone else? Yes, Miss Patil."

Parvati spat out a lock of hair, "My mum likes to use them whenever she gets her hair dyed. She says it keeps the color from fading when she washes it."

"Unorthodox," Flitwick commented, "though it would work. Another point for Gryffindor. It's not usual to use rejuvenation charms on living beings, though on one's hair or fingernails it wouldn't be a problem, as those aren't precisely living. Can anyone hazard a guess as to why this would be?"

Most of the earlier raised hands lowered. Predictably, Harry and Hermione both had their hands up, and surprisingly, so did Ron. "Yes, Mr. Weasley."

"Well… Dad told me once about a woman who cast rejuvenation charms on herself to make herself appear younger. He said that it worked, but never for very long, and when it wore off, her body aged ten times the amount of time she'd been under the charm. She ended up dying of old age and she was only fifty or so."

Flitwick nodded sadly, "Yes, Meredith Chalmers. I recall reading about her in the paper several years ago. No one is quite sure _why_ rejuvenation charms have this effect on living matter, and it has yet to be discovered a charm that _doesn't_ have this effect. Keep that in mind, children. It is far safer to use simple glamours if you wish to appear younger – though I doubt that any of you would want to at this stage of life." The professor smiled broadly. "Most of you are probably wanting to appear older right now." There were some light chuckles of agreement throughout the class.

While Flitwick continued his lecture, Harry took notes almost automatically while another part of his brain wondered, _Can I use a rejuvenation charm on the clock?_

As the class ended, Harry turned to ask Hermione her opinion, but she was nowhere to be found. "Damnit," Harry muttered.

Ron looked up from packing his notes, "What's the matter, mate?"

Harry met Ron's eyes, "Ever notice how Hermione tends ta disappear right as class ends?"

Ron shrugged, "No. She probably just hurried off to Care of Magical Creatures. We have that next, and she hasn't missed a class yet – this is _Hermione_, after all."

Harry stopped suddenly in packing up his own bag. "Huh? That ain't right. We have Ancient Runes next, not CoMC." Ron was slightly disturbed to see a puzzled expression on Harry's face – he hadn't seen it happen before, and it _definitely _didn't look right. "An' I _know_ she ain't missed a class yet."

"But that's impossible," Ron protested, tucking his quill into an outside pocket of his bag. "How can she be in two places at once?"

Harry shook his head and resumed packing away his notebook and quills. "I've no idea, but I aim ta find out. When ya get to CoMC, see iffen Hermione's there. I'll see if she's in Runes, an' lemme know at lunch. I'll meet ya just outside the Great Hall."

Ron nodded in agreement and the two of them parted ways, off to their next classes. Harry slid into his seat in DeAboco's class just as the bell rang. Hermione was in her seat next to him, just like always. He had to wait until the second half of class, when DeAboco gave them time to work on their homework, to lean over and whisper to Hermione, "Do you think mayhap a rejuvenation charm would work on the clock?"

Hermione didn't look up from her work, but paused. "I don't know… I'd have to research it."

"I'll talk to Percy, too," Harry replied. "Lemme know, 'kay?"

Hermione nodded and resumed her work.

Harry hurriedly finished his essay on the multiple uses of Wunjo in Compound Runes, bindrunes, and Words of Power. He really had too much to do outside of class to have to worry about additional homework, too. When class ended, Harry noticed that Hermione disappeared completely once again, but he didn't pay it any mind this time – he was _going _to find out what she was doing, come Hell or high water.

While waiting for Ron, he saw Percy, and seized the older boy's arm, dragging him out of the flow of students hurrying to lunch. "What did you need, Harry?" Percy asked.

Harry grinned, "Not much, just wanted to know if a rejuvenation charm would work to fix the clock."

Percy thought for a moment, "It might, but you'd still have to get the power level of the spell up to the same as the original activation spell."

Harry sighed, "So that'd put me right back to where I am now…"

Percy nodded, "It would. Look, Harry, I know you feel like he asked _you_ for help, but I don't think that trying to do this all yourself is quite what he had in mind. Why don't you just talk to Dumbledore? I'm sure he'd be able to find out what's going on."

Harry gave a little smile and shook his head, "I can't do that, Percy. I mean, I prob'ly _will_ go to him when I know more, but not just yet."

"Why not?"

"'On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to my God and country'," Harry quoted.

"What's that mean?"

Harry's odd little smile lingered, "Iffen ya don't know, Perce, I don't know iffen I c'n explain… He asked _me_ to help, not Dumbledore. It'd be wrong ta pass it off to someone else, unless there was absolutely _nothin'_ else I could do."

Percy laughed, "You're completely barmy, you know that?"

Harry nodded matter-of-factly, "Yeah, I know. But I ain't stupid, and that's gotta count for somethin'."

"I'm sure it does," Percy replied, clasping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Good luck. I need to get to lunch – my stomach's starting to have an uncomfortably close association with my backbone."

"See ya later," Harry said and spotted Ron looking for him. He hurried over. "Well?"

"Hermione was there, just like always," Ron said, casting a longing glance towards the Great Hall doors.

"She was in Runes, too," Harry replied. "Go on to lunch… I'll grab something later."

"What are you going to do?"

"Go to the library, I think. See iffen mayhap I can find out anythin' on bein' in two places at once." Harry dashed off before Ron could reply.

Once ensconced in his favorite corner table in the library, several promising-looking books surrounding him, Harry set to reading, noting down anything that seemed like it might be able to help in either of his current investigations or his current Spell Creation project.

Harry's Spell Creation class was working on their third projects of the year – Dumbledore had been right about the first projects of the year, both Harry and Hermione had managed to create their spells, but Draco had found that unaided flight wasn't possible, though he'd still received full marks for the project as he had done all the research and discovered that there was a particular brand of wizarding insoles one could buy for their shoes that would allow for flight similar to a broom. Their second projects had completed just before Christmas break. Hermione had created a fresh-breath charm that lasted all day, Harry had created a spell that he thought would be quite useful when camping – it summoned just enough dry wood, broken into perfect lengths, for use in a campfire, and Draco had come up with the wizarding equivalent of Krazy Glue, only his didn't glue fingers and skin together. Harry had been really impressed with the concoction, but he wasn't about to admit it to the Slytherin. Harry's current project was to find a way to record his music into a notebook, along the same lines as the book of guitar songs he'd bought for Ron, but recording the music rather than playing it; he hated having to write out the sheet-music for the songs he had in his head. Needless to say, both of the spells he had managed to create had found their way into his grimore.

Later that night, after dinner and astronomy, he was getting ready for bed with his roommates, but as he laid down, he didn't feel particularly sleepy. He stared at the canopy over his bed until the sounds around him indicated that everyone else was asleep. _I wonder…_ he mused. Silently, he got out of bed and ventured down to his hide-a-room. It had occurred to him that he hadn't asked _everyone_ he knew about the clock, and with the sheer amount of research he'd been doing for his Spell Creation class, he realized that the personality contained in the diary – even though it was a wannabe dark lord – would likely know a _lot_ about experimental magics. He just needed to figure out a way to ask that wouldn't alert Tom to either his real identity or his real reason for asking.

Harry took a seat at the desk and retrieved the diary from its place in a drawer. He twirled a quill in his hand as he stared at its cover for several minutes before nodding to himself and opening it.

_Hey, Tom, it's Jay._

**Hello, Jay.**

Harry wondered for a moment if Tom knew how long it had been since he'd last written. Not seeing as how it could hurt, he asked_. I was wondering if you were aware of the passage of time if no one writes in the diary._

**Unfortunately, no. Why do you ask?**

_Just that I mislaid it – it got shoved under my bed and then mixed up with all my notes from first year. I just found it again._

**I see. And how long has it been since you and I last spoke?**

_Just over a year. It's January of '94 now. Everyone just got back from Christmas break. Anyhow, I was working on my homework for Spell Creation and realized that you must know an awful lot about the subject – you made this diary, after all._

**Indeed I do. Did you need help on your project?**

_Not just yet, we just started new ones. However, I was thinking about a story I read recently and what with me being in SC I was curious whether or not the plot was really possible. No one I've asked has a clue, but not many of my friends have read the story._

**Why don't you tell me about it. Maybe I can help.**

_Well, I know that part of it is possible, but I don't know about the ending of the story._

**Like I said, tell me the tale, and I'll see if I can help you figure it out.**

Harry smirked and thought for a moment before replying. _Well, this kid, his name's Sean, he's being unfairly picked on by one of his teachers. His family has a Family Clock – do you know what those are?_

**Yes. Continue, please.**

_Well, Sean wants to find out why his teacher is picking on him so much, so he gets the idea to make a sort-of family clock. He manages to get one of his teacher's hairs, and uses it to make a clock that can answer questions instead of telling where the target is. It has the alphabet around the face. When he's talking with the clock – which is the part I found is possible, though it takes a lot of research and changing the charms, something that I don't think the kid in the story could do – it spazzes out and quits working before he could find out the answer to why his teacher keeps picking on him._

'**Spazzes out'?**

_I take it you're not familiar with the term?_

**Not in the slightest.**

_Lemme see… A spaz is someone who's got a really short attention span and is really hyper. Spazzing out is when someone or something starts acting sporadically and unexpectedly, usually with a lot of energy._

**Interesting word, I'll have to remember it. What of the part you weren't sure was possible?**

_Well, back to the story. Sean uses a rejuvenation charm to get the clock working again, and eventually finds out that the reason his teacher hates him so much is because the kid reminds him too much of himself. It was a stupid ending, but I liked the rest of the story._

**I presume that the part you were questioning was the use of a rejuvenation charm, correct?**

_Right. Do you know if it would work?_

**Without knowing how the spells that went into making the clock were altered, I couldn't say. You said you did some research and found how to do so?**

_Yeah, let me get my notes, and I'll let you know what I found._ Harry quickly located Percy's notes on the clock and set to transcribing a summary of how the spells were altered. When he'd finished, he watched in fascination as they were absorbed into the diary and replaced by several lines of arithmancy which vanished almost as soon as they appeared. After several minutes of this, the page went blank again and Riddle's writing reappeared.

**It would be possible, but the rejuvenation charm's power would have to equal or exceed the power level of the initial activation of the clock.**

Oh, thanks. Was that arithmancy you were just doing?

**Yes. Are you taking the class?**

_Yeah. I really like it, I always did like math._

**If you ever need help on your homework, don't forget I can help you with it.**

_Thanks, Tom. I'll definitely keep that in mind. _Harry glanced at his watch – it was nearing two in the morning. _Hey, Tom, I need to go. It's getting really late. I had astronomy today and I've got History of Magic first thing in the morning. Talk to you later?_

**Certainly, Jay. I'll be waiting.**

Harry closed the diary and set it back in the drawer, satisfied that he finally had an answer to one of his many questions, despite the growing headache he was getting. He climbed up the ladder, closed his trunk, and stretched out on his bed.

About a week later, Harry thought he had figured out what was going on with Hermione, at least. He'd located information on time travel in the library, and he was positive that Hermione was doing something along those lines in order to attend all her classes. Sharing this information with the other boys in his dorm, they all expressed disbelief that she was doing so. "Well, iffen y'all don't believe me, then let's test out my theory."

"How?" Seamus asked.

Harry grinned, "Well… this will take a little work, but it should prove fun in the end."

The other boys leaned forward, and Ron – knowing what Harry's expression meant after having lived with the twins all his life – asked, "What'd you have in mind?"

Harry quickly sketched out his plan, which took three explanations before Dean managed to understand the complexities of relative time-streams. They ended the impromptu prank meeting with a promise not to let on to Hermione that they were planning something.

Throughout the remainder of the month of January, Harry and the other Gryffindor third-year boys took detailed notes on where and when they spotted Hermione. Once they felt like they understood at least part of her normal routine, Harry occasionally asked her highly specific questions, hoping to find out in what order Hermione went through her days. On the third of February, Harry thought he knew enough about Hermione's personal time-stream to enact their prank, but he wanted to make sure. Since it was a Wednesday, Harry had Ancient Runes with Hermione, while the rest of the boys had Care of Magical Creatures. Seamus had agreed to 'injure' himself during the class – ever since a mishap involving a lawnmower that he never went into too great a detail on, he'd been able to dislocate his shoulder whenever he wanted.

As he took his seat in Professor DeAboco's class, he saw that Hermione was indeed worried. He smiled to himself as he got out his notebook and his homework from Monday. His suspicions had been confirmed. In Hermione's personal time-stream, she went to CoMC before runes. _I can work with this_, Harry thought, smirking. Planning on letting the other boys know that his suspicions had won out after dinner that evening, Harry brushed aside Hermione's questioning expression with a little shake of his head as he handed his homework in.

Though he had planned to inform his other friends that evening, he hadn't counted on being totally exhausted following his occlumency lesson with Professor Snape. Since he had finally managed to clear his mind, they were working on building his mental protections. Mainly what this meant was that Harry spent an inordinate amount of time in a meditative trance, sifting through and sorting his memories, hiding them behind a layer of unimportant surface-thoughts. It was much harder than it had sounded when Snape had explained the process, and took a level of magical control that Harry'd never had to deal with before. If using normal spells was like using a hammer on a nail, then using occlumency was like trying to set the nail in place with only his bare hands; a constant, forceful pressure, rather than a single explosive burst of energy.

It had taken all his effort to return to his dorm room following the lesson, and he fell asleep on the common room sofa with his arithmancy book open in his lap.

_Dumbledore cleared his throat. "After having spoken to both Harry and Draco about the incident on the pitch earlier today, and having discussed the matter with Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Brewer, I have decided to put the both of you on probation for the duration of not only the remainder of this year, but the entirety of your third year. This means, gentlemen," Albus leveled his blue eyes at first Draco, and then Harry, "that even one more incident like the one I saw today will lead to your suspension from quidditch for the remainder of your Hogwarts' careers." Harry paled and Draco swallowed audibly. "I suggest, gentlemen, that if you are unable to get along peaceably, that you ignore one another for the duration. If, at the end of your third year, there have been no further problems between the two of you, I will consider lifting the probation. Is this understood?"_

"_Yes, sir," Harry muttered, and Draco echoed the statement._

"_Now, before I release you, I believe you should apologize to one another."_

_The boys stood, and knowing there was no way out of it, faced each other, mumbled "I'm sorry," and stared at the floor._

_After several minutes of silence, Harry looked up, meaning to see if he could use his empathy to read his mom and get some clue as to how angry she was. Instead, he met Lucius' eyes._

_He was immediately bombarded by a sense of utter desolation and longing, distress and a long-simmered anger. Confused, Harry opened his empathy a little wider and tried to use the legilimency skill Snape was adamant that he possessed. The images he saw made little sense. There were several pictures of a young Lucius sitting with a boy and girl his age, both with red hair – the boy's hair somewhat brighter than the girl's. There was also a viciously grinning girl with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes who aimed her wand at him. Lucius seemed to sense something and suddenly, all Harry saw were passages of books, all of which contained the word 'help.'_

_Harry now stood alone in an empty room, "How! How can I help? I don't know what's wrong, damnit!"_

_Lucius, appearing as he had in his seventh-year annual picture, materialized. "Molly Anne. Molly Anne, don't worry! It's only two, short months." He was obviously addressing someone who wasn't there. "Two months, love, then this is over. We'll still have that last year at Hogwarts, but I think we will both survive." He smiled a charming grin at his invisible companion before his eyes flicked up and slightly to the left. "Ah, here he is!" Shadowlike forms began to solidify, giving shape to Lucius' companions. "Well met, my friend. Keep a close eye on Molly Anne for me, will you? I worry for her."_

_The shadow Lucius was now talking to walked a little away from the other, Lucius following it, still smiling. He appeared to be listening to something that Harry couldn't hear. Lucius nodded, "Of course, Artie. I promise." The two then walked back to the other shadow._

_Harry sighed, "I get it, really, I do! How does this help? I know about how he was friends with the Weasleys at one time! This isn't helping me at all!"_

_The scene shifted, making Harry momentarily dizzy. Now, instead of the empty room, he was now outside, in bright sunlight, following an older man who walked leaning on a stout silver-handled cane and an impeccably-dressed woman. "I trust you to be on your absolute _best_ behavior, son," the man was saying. "The Blacks are a family nearly as old as our own, and they don't hold with none of your idealistic nonsense about those bloody muggles."_

_Harry heard himself reply before he realized that he was now riding along in Lucius' memory. "I know, father. I promise I won't say anything you would disapprove of."_

_The older man stopped and turned to face Harry/Lucius. "It's not me you should be worrying about, son. It's the Blacks. I won't have you ruining this with any of your bizarre notions. You know the consequences should you decide to ruin this for me." Lucius' father's face was cold, not angry._

_Lucius/Harry bowed his head, "I know, father. You won't be disappointed." Lucius' reply was quiet, nearly whispered. Harry heard what he had left unsaid, though. _Not yet, at any rate. I don't care if you disinherit me, but I'll play along for now. When I turn seventeen, though, you old bastard, I'm not going to be your little show-child anymore. I'm smart enough to make my own way in the world, I don't need your money, and I don't need _you_.

_The scene made another dizzying shift, and Harry was now once again watching Lucius interact with shadows. "Mrs. Black, a pleasure to meet you at last," Lucius said, bowing to one of the shadowy figures, then to another, "And Narcissa. I have seen you at school, of course. May I say those uniforms don't do you justice?"_

"Harry!"

Harry bolted awake, his textbook falling to the floor. "'M awake." He blinked and rubbed under his glasses to clear his eyes. Yawning, he met Hermione's eyes. "What time is it?"

"Just past nine, Harry. You really should go to bed if you're that tired." Harry nodded and picked up his book. "What were you dreaming about? You were mumbling in your sleep."

Pausing as he slid his text into his bag, he looked up in alarm, "What did I say?"

Hermione shook her head, "Don't know. It was pretty low and garbled. You're working too hard, if you ask me – falling asleep in the common room and everything."

Harry chuckled a little. "Look who's talkin'," he pointed to the shadows under her eyes. "I'm not the one tryin' ta take _all _the classes. You're gonna burn out iffen y'all keep this up."

Hermione stubbornly squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Am not," she childishly replied. "I know what I can handle, thank you very much."

Harry shrugged and yawned again, "Whatever you say, Hermione. See y'all tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Harry hurried up to his dorm room and saw that he wasn't the only one who'd had a long day. Seamus, Ron, and Dean were all already asleep, and Neville was stretched out on his bed in his pajamas, reading. Harry quickly got into his own pajamas and flopped onto his bed, wondering what his dream meant. He knew by now that he occasionally had dreams that were true, but most of those dreams were of unimportant things. The only times he'd dreamt about true events that were also important, the dream was far from being straightforward. He sensed that the same was true of his latest dream. _I really need to get that damn clock fixed, see iffen mayhap it can tell me what the heck is goin' on…_ Harry's thoughts mulled the situation over as he fell asleep once more.

Harry mentioned the fact that his theory on Hermione's personal time-stream was, indeed, correct the next morning while everyone was getting ready for the day. "So, does that mean we're going to start messing with her today?" Dean asked, knotting his tie.

Harry shook his head, "No, not just yet. We don't want her getting too suspicious. Let's ignore the fact that we know she's using time-travel to go through her classes for a little while."

Ron grinned and pulled on his robes, "Lull her into a false sense of security?"

Harry nodded, "Precisely."

Walking down to breakfast, Harry turned his thoughts back to how, exactly, to get a rejuvenation charm powerful enough to reactivate Lucius' clock. Ignoring the conversations going on around his ears, he took out a notebook and began scribbling.

_Chained magic: A x B x C x D…_

_Synchronized magic: A to the power of B to the power of C to the power of D…_

_Synchro-chained magic: (A x B x C…) to the power of A to the power of B…_

_Is the power of a wizard simply a comparison with his fellows or is there a numerical breakdown denoting relative power-levels? Ask Vector – I'm sure he'd know._

_If so, then:_

_The original spell on the clock:_

_(Percy x Hermione x Neville x Ron x Seamus x Dean) to the power of Fred to the power of George._

_A rejuvenation charm would need to equal or exceed that spell's power._

_N(Me x H)_

_Where N equals the number of times the magic is cycled through the chain, and H equals whoever my helpers are._

_So:_

_(P x He x Ne x R x S x D) to G to F __≤ N(M x H)_

Once breakfast was over, Harry impatiently sat through herbology, anxious to get to arithmancy. Finally, the bells rang, and he sprinted for his next class. Skidding to a breathless halt just outside the door, he waited, tapping his foot, for the student currently speaking with Vector to leave. When the girl left, Harry hurried up to the dweeby-looking professor in tweed robes. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Arnold Vector peered through his thick glasses.

"I was wonderin' if there was a numerical classification for a wizard's power? Seemed to me there had ta be, 'cause of some of the arithmanthetical proofs in the back of my book."

"Been reading ahead, have we?" Vector asked, smiling benignly.

Harry shrugged, "A little, yeah."

Vector rummaged through the chaotic clutter crowding the surface of his desk, "Normally, we don't get to that part of arithmancy until well into your fourth year – I like my students to understand the theories before doing any practical work." He shuffled a stack of graded papers from the left side of the desk to the right, "Ah, here it is!" He turned to face Harry once again, "I don't see how giving this to you now would be a problem, though. From your work in class, I know you understand the theories that we're discussing. However, I will expect at least twelve problems from you – your choice on which you want to do – from the self-test at the end of chapter thirty in exchange for this," he tapped the parchment he was holding.

Harry smiled and nodded, "Of course, sir."

Vector handed the parchment to him, "If you do well on the problems, I may even grant you some extra credit for doing them."

Harry glanced over the parchment, "Thanks, sir, this was exactly what I was looking for. Will you need this back?"

Vector shook his head, "No, it's an extra from the forth-year class. You can keep it. Best find your seat, though."

Harry looked up and realized that while he'd been talking with the professor, the rest of the class had arrived. He took his seat between Hermione and Terry Boot, one of the Ravenclaws. Flipping his notebook for the class open to the right page, Harry quickly noted the extra assignment at the top of the page before taking his notes for the day.

He had to wait until lunch before looking over the hand-out Vector had given him.

_**The Heilzer-Burggent Ranking Scale**_

_Anton Heilzer and Gustav Burggent  
were two of the most prominent  
wizards of the sixteenth century,  
many consider them to be the founders  
of modern arithmancy. Though  
they made innumerable additions  
to the uses and applications of  
the field of arithmancy, their lasting  
legacy is the Heilzer-Burggent  
ranking scale. Previously, there  
had been no concrete system  
in place to rank the power level –  
the amount of magical power present –  
of a wizard._

_It took the pair nearly forty years to finalize  
the scale listed below. In order to find  
where a particular wizard ranks  
on this scale, one would use the  
Heilzer-Burggent charm, listed at the  
bottom of the page. _

_Muggles and other nonmagical beings………………0 – 8  
Squibs………………………………………...………9 – 14  
Sub-average wizards………………………………..15 – 25  
Average wizards…………………………...………..25 – 32  
Above average wizards……………………………..33 – 41  
Sorcerers……………………………………………42 – 58  
Magi………………………………………………...59 – 64  
Warlocks…………………………………………...65 – 75  
Adepts………………………………………………75 – 82  
Masters……………………………………………...83 – 88  
Grand-masters………………………………………89 – 96  
Archmages………………………………………...96 – 100_

_**The Heilzer-Burggent charm:**_

_Incantation – _Aperiomagus ordo

_Wand motions:_

_Begin with a clockwise circular motion, once one  
circuit is completed, end on a flick towards  
the intended target. The flick should coincide with the  
'd' sound in 'ordo.'_

_It should be noted that if this spell  
is cast on a wizard who has not yet  
finished their physical growth, the  
results won't necessarily reveal  
the target's final rank. A wizard's  
power continues to grow as the wizard does._

"I guess that answers _that_ question," Harry muttered to himself, looking over the ranking system.

"Hey, Harry, be a mate and pass the beans, would you?" Seamus interrupted.

Harry tucked the parchment back into his notebook and set to eating his lunch, promising himself that he would try out the spell that evening. He got his chance a little earlier than he'd expected. When he and the rest of the Gryffindor third-years finished with Self-Defense Strategies, they found a notice on the bulletin in the common room stating that due to an accident in the fifth-year's potions class, the regularly-scheduled quidditch practice was canceled. Harry winced a little because Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina were all in that class. Noticing Wood out of the corner of his eye, he made sure to avoid all contact with their captain – he looked decidedly less-than-pleased.

Retreating to his dorm room, it didn't take long for Harry to figure out how to cast the spell on the hand-out. Casting it on himself, it caused small, blue, glowing numerals to appear on the handle of his wand. He noted down the number that had appeared, and returned to the common room. One by one, he managed to get the ranking of all the people who had helped him charm the clock originally, save for Fred and George, who were down in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey.

By Saturday morning, he'd gotten the twins' numerical ranking. He sat down and plugged the numbers into his equation, and when he finished working it out, he found himself disbelieving of a number comprised of that many digits; in painstaking, Hermione-esque writing, it covered a complete side of his notebook paper, ignoring the lines. "Dio de mia madre," Harry whispered in astonishment. "How the _hell_ am I gonna match that, let alone _exceed _it?"

The only thing he could think of was to get everyone who'd helped the first time to help again. So, that evening, he tracked down everybody, and dragged them back to Myrtle's bathroom. He had the clock in his backpack. "Are you going to tell us what's so important that I had to leave my essay?" Hermione asked, looking rather put-out.

"Yeah, mate…" George began.

"…we were in the middle of something," Fred finished.

Harry spun on his heel to face everyone, his temper spiking, "I know y'all have better things to be doin' right now, but, damnit, I need y'all's help with this one! I know y'all don't wanna believe me about Lucius askin' me for help, an' I know most of y'all don't even _care_. Iffen it helps, think on it like this: _he _ain't askin' for _y'all's _help – _I _am! I can't get this damn thing fixed _without_ you!" Harry angrily withdrew the broken clock from his bag. Everyone was giving each other uneasy glances; though most had seen Harry get angry with Draco before, none of them had been on the receiving end of his anger and it scared them. None of them failed to notice the way little static-shocks of magic seemed to sparkle in the air around their friend.

Neville stepped towards Harry, "Harry, calm down."

"I am calm!" Harry shouted.

Neville winced a little and then smiled, "If this is calm, then how are you normally? Sedated?"

Harry blinked and made an effort to breathe deeply. "Sorry," he finally said. "I didn't mean to get mad at y'all, but I really do need your help."

Neville stood by Harry and faced their friends, "Come on, guys, this didn't take long last time, and I'm sure it won't take long this time, either."

Sighing, Percy asked, "So… Just how do you plan on fixing the clock, Harry?"

Harry looked from the clock to Percy and replied, "Accommodare ephebus. I've already researched it, and that's the best spell I've found for this type of thing."

"Last time, we chained the magic before synching it through the twins," Hermione stated, almost whispering. "Should we do the same with this one?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, that's why I needed everyone here. The only difference is that this time, I want to be included in the chain. All my resources said that the rejuvenation charm had to be equal or greater in power than the original spells that went into the clock's creation."

"That makes sense, I suppose," Hermione sighed. "Come on, then. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get on with what we're _supposed_ to be doing."

As Neville had predicted, it only took a couple of minutes to do the spell on the clock. When it was done, most of the group headed back to what they were doing before Harry had interrupted them. Percy lingered. "You're absolutely sure you know what you're doing, Harry?"

Harry picked the clock up and put it back in his bag before answering. "I honestly have no idea, Perce. I just do what feels _right_, I don't know why, but I _have _to. I wouldn't be me if I didn't help when someone asked."

Percy shook his head, "I don't know if I understand, Harry."

Harry looked up, "I don't know if I really do, either. I just know I _have_ to do this."

Percy looked as though he wanted to say something else, but just shook his head again. "Good luck, then."

Harry nodded, "Thanks."

Once Percy had left, Harry hurried back to Gryffindor tower. He knew that his room mates were going back out to the pitch, which is where he'd located them, to finish their pick-up quidditch game. Hermione had likely returned to the library, and Percy to his own dorm. Harry carefully sat the newly-repaired clock on his bed before digging out the notebook he'd been tracking the Lucius-issue in. He had just set his pen to the paper in preparation for asking his first question when there was a knock on the dorm door.

Setting the notebook next to the clock, he got up. The knocker was Ginny. "Oh, hey, Ginny. Whacha need?"

Ginny smiled a little. "I was wandering the castle a few minutes ago when I happened to see my brothers and your roommates, along with Hermione, all leave Myrtle's loo on the first floor." Her smile definitely had a curious edge to it.

Harry chuckled, he knew the expressions of his friends hadn't exactly been normal after his display of temper. "Come on in, Ginny."

Ginny entered the room, and took a seat on the edge of Ron's bed. "So that's the infamous clock, is it?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I had everyone help me fix it. I was just about to start questioning it when you knocked."

"Oh, I thought they were worried about helping fix it? Something about explosions or some such."

Harry shrugged, "I think I scared them into it."

Ginny giggled, "You?"

"If you don't believe me, ask Ron."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather ask Neville – Ron scares too easily."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, "That so?"

Ginny nodded, "Yeah, he's afraid of spiders, and slept with a night-candle until he was ten."

Harry had to laugh, "Really?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, "though, personally, I think it's the twins' fault."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Harry said, reaching for the notebook. "You wanna help me?"

"Sure. What do you need me to do?"

"It's easiest if I ask the questions and read off the letters as it answers, you write the letters down as I say them, okay?"

Ginny took the notebook and Harry's never-out quill. "Sounds easy enough."

"It is," Harry said, turning his attention to the clock. Clearing his throat, he asked the same question he had started with the last time he'd talked to the clock, just to verify that it was, indeed, working properly. "What is your son's name?"

DRACONUS XAVIER LUCIEN MALFOY

Harry nodded, everything seemed to be working as it should. _Is it my imagination or does the clock look more… polished?_ Shaking off the random thought, he moved on to his first real question. "What happened to you during the summer following your sixth year at Hogwarts that caused you to stop being friends with Molly Prewitt and Arthur Weasley?"

I WAS CURSED

"Who cursed you?" Harry asked, and saw that it wasn't his imagination, the clock was definitely more polished-looking than it had been when he'd taken it out of his bag mere minutes earlier.

NARCISSA BLACK

The dark red of the wood began to pale. Harry was a little concerned at that, but he needed the information, and knew it was unlikely that he'd get it anywhere else. "What curse did she use on you?"

THE IMPERIUS CURSE

By now the red cedar wood had faded to a light pink. Harry still didn't know what this meant, so he skipped ahead to the most important questions on his list. "Why did Narcissa curse you?"

SHE AND I WERE PROMISED WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN AND SHE DOESNT SHARE WHAT SHE SEES AS HERS

The last of the color faded completely. Harry looked closely at the clock and found that it was impossible to tell that it had been carved of wood. It now looked to be crafted from either crystal or glass. "How do you want me to help you?"

BREAK THE C

With a slight chiming noise the clock stopped completely. "Break the what?" Harry asked, hoping that he wasn't right about it having broken again.

The hand remained halfway between the T and U.

"Damnit," Harry swore.

"Let me guess, it stopped working?" Ginny looked up from the notebook.

Harry nodded, "I don't get it though… why'd it stop? And why'd it change?"

Ginny shrugged, "No clue. So… What are you going to do now?"

"Think, I reckon," Harry replied. "Spring break's not that far off, right?"

Ginny nodded, "Only another two weeks."

"That's not much time to do much of anythin'. I'll prob'ly leave this for now and come back to it after break's over with."

"Can I make a suggestion, Harry?" Ginny asked, handing him the notebook and quill. Harry nodded. "Take a _real_ break. You're starting to look as worn-down as Hermione these days."

Harry gave her a small smile. "I know, an' I think you're right. I'm not going to work on this 'til break's finished. Sound good?"

Ginny nodded, "Yeah. Try to get Hermione to take a break, too. I think she could really use one."

Harry snorted, "You're welcome to talk to her about it if you want, Gin. I ain't gonna bug her 'bout it no more. The last time I said anything, she damn near bit my head off."

Ginny laughed at that and left Harry to his musing.

* * *

**A/N2:** I know the Scout oath is mildly misquoted, but Harry phrases it the way he does on purpose - he's the only non-Christian in his troop, and his Scout leader never noticed the minor rearrangement of the word 'my'. Thanks, as ever, to all my readers, reviewers, and my beta!   



	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Sorry about the wait, RL got in the way.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Talking to Dumbledore  
**

True to Harry's word, he didn't work on the Lucius-issue at all during the time leading up to Easter Break, nor did he do much during the break besides have fun with his friends – after he'd apologized for his display of temper, that was.

When rain kept them cooped up for two days straight, Harry and his room mates managed to keep themselves occupied with music. Harry ended up demonstrating the difference between rock-guitar and country-guitar. He'd further explained how most country music was defined by the presence of a steel-guitar, and then had to explain how that instrument differed from a normal guitar. He'd used the synthesizer to show the sound of a steel-guitar. Following the in-depth discussion, it wasn't any wonder that Harry's first week back in classes after break was over were spent with various country songs playing endlessly in his head.

That first week following Easter also brought a surprise. Hermione, who had worked endlessly all through the holiday, apparently lost her temper in Divination and had stormed out of the class, vowing never to return. Listening to Ron and Seamus describe the scene, it made Harry wish he'd taken the class, if only to have been able to witness the event himself.

The second week following break, Harry and the boys began their minor prank on Hermione. Knowing she was in multiple places at once, they took great delight in sending off an owl and placing bets on which Hermione would receive the letter. None of the notes said anything of consequence, they were only numbered. Hermione began growing more and more puzzled at receiving the strange notes between classes, and by the time she received one with a number six printed on it, she had had enough.

She was on her way to Professor McGonagall's office to report them when she noticed Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean all clustered in an alcove just off the main hallway leading to Gryffindor Tower. She crept up near them and hid behind a statue. "So, who had it that she'd get it after CoMC?" Seamus asked.

"Me an' Nev did," Harry replied.

There was a rustling noise, and Hermione peered around the statue in time to see a load of junk food exchange hands. "Hey," Neville protested, "I thought we said that two licorice wands equaled a chocolate frog! Dean, pay up!"

Dean grinned, "Sorry, mate. Here ya go." He handed over another chocolate frog.

"Who's going to send off the next note?" Ron asked, handing Harry two packets of Bertie Botts.

"I think it's Seamus' turn," Harry said, shoving the candy into his bag.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stepped around the statue, "No! No more notes! I've had it up to here," she drew a line in the air over her head, "with your juvenile idiocy!"

Harry snickered, and that set off the other boys. "Come on, Hermione, it was just a bit of fun! Besides, it was kinda interestin' ta see which you the owl would pick."

"Just a bit of fun –" Hermione started to rant, but stopped short when Harry's words sank into her brain. "What do you mean, 'which me the owl would pick'?"

Ron spoke up, "Come on, Hermione. Did you really expect that no one would notice that you never miss a class, even when some of those classes are at the same time?"

Hermione could only blink. "I think we broke her," Seamus said, waiving a hand in front of Hermione's eyes.

"So just _how_ were you making it to all your classes?" Harry asked. "I know it's some sort of time-travel…"

Hermione met the eyes of each of the boys in turn. "You promise you won't tell anyone else?" A round of affirmatives sounded. She sighed and pulled a long chain out from under her shirt. "A time-turner."

The boys crowded in close and looked at the tiny hourglass. "It don't seem like much, do it?" Harry commented.

"It's not very powerful, it can only take me back about four hours."

After several minutes of staring at the necklace, the group broke up. "I don't know about anyone else," Hermione said, tucking the necklace back under her shirt, "but I'm starving. Let's all go down to dinner."

Letting Hermione wander a little ways ahead of them, the boys sorted out who had won what for correctly guessing what method Hermione was using to time-travel. Neville turned out to be the big winner, and couldn't stop grinning all through dinner.

Humming an old Johnny Cash song, Harry left dinner a little earlier than his friends. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, he merely wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a while. _At least now I know what's wrong with Lucius,_ he thought, staring at the floor in front of him. _He an' Mrs. Weasley used to be a couple, an' Mr. Weasley was their friend. He was taken to see Narcissa during the summer before his final year here an' she put him under that curse that makes ya do whatever the caster wants you to. From what that book in the library said, he didn't have much of a chance, that spell can't be blocked, an' only a small percentage of the population can fight it successfully. Since he's never gone back to how he used to be before she cursed him, he's probably been under it ever since._ Harry shivered a little, _I can't imagine how horrible it'd be to be a passenger in your own life – to have to watch as you do things you never would've otherwise._ Harry wasn't bothering with looking where he was going, he was too lost in his thoughts. He didn't hear as another set of footfalls began following him.

_I have to wonder how the world woulda been different iffen Narcissa hadn't cursed Lucius. For starters, Ron, Ginny, Percy, an' the rest of the Weasley boys wouldn't be here, because their mom woulda married Lucius instead of Mr. Weasley. Krätze wouldn't be here, either, not that that woulda been too great a loss to wizardkind._ Harry's expression darkened at the thought of Draco, but he forcefully pushed thoughts of the blonde irritation from his mind. _Then there's a whole ripple-string of causality that could have affected the world, I'm sure. Who knows? Mayhap Narcissa's cursing of Lucius somehow triggered the series of events that led me to bein' adopted by Mom. Mayhap I should call her 'Butterfly' instead of Narcissa. _Harry smirked. "No one ever suspects the butterfly," he whispered.

"Knut for your thoughts, Mr. Brewer?" Headmaster Dumbledore fell into step beside Harry.

Harry jumped a little at the question, not expecting anyone to be there. He smiled a greeting. "Hello, professor. Thought I asked ya ta call me Harry?"

"Indeed, Harry. My apologies for startling you, that was not my intention." Albus offered a tin of mints, and Harry took one. "What brings you to wander the corridors looking so serious?"

"Somethin' I been workin' on for a while now, sir. It had me wonderin' just how different things coulda been had one single thing gone differently."

"I believe you mentioned something about a butterfly?"

Harry let out a little laugh, "Hadn't known I'd said that part out loud."

"I believe your exact words were 'No one ever suspects the butterfly.' Just what were you referring to?"

"Well, there's this thing in muggle science called chaos theory; it explains how even the littlest things can have a big impact on the world. The short version is that a butterfly flaps its wings in China, and that causes a little puff of wind that knocks more air around, and after a couple of months, that little flap of a butterfly's wings has grown into a hurricane."

"Interesting theory," Albus acknowledged. "Just how did that figure into your thoughts?"

"Well, sir, it popped into my head 'cause of that thing I mentioned workin' on."

"And what would that be?"

Harry stopped walking and turned to face the headmaster. "Did you want the long version or the short one?"

Albus smiled, "Why don't you start with the short, and if we need to, you can explain more fully afterwards."

"'Kay, then, here goes. Short version: Is there a way to break an imperius curse on someone?"

Dumbledore blinked, shook his head as though to dislodge water from his ears, and asked, "And the long version?"

"Can we talk somewhere else? I think this'll take a while."

Albus led Harry to his office, and conjured a teapot. Once they were both settled in, Harry began, "Well, it all goes back to when y'all called Mom an' Mr. Malfoy here after me an' Draco had that fight down on the pitch."

"Excuse me, headmaster," Snape appeared in the doorway.

Albus looked up over his teacup, "Good evening, Severus. I was just chatting with Harry here. What did you need?"

"Minerva asked me to find you, she had some questions regarding the dormitory arrangements for next term."

"Thank you, Severus. I'll speak with her."

Severus turned to leave, but Harry stopped him. "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Brewer?"

"You don't hafta go, iffen y'all don't wanna. You told me ta let ya know what I was on about back when I asked y'all 'bout Lucius Malfoy." Harry gestured towards the second chair facing the headmaster's desk.

"Tea, Severus?" Snape shook his head and joined them at the desk.

"Anyway," Harry started again, "as I was sayin'…" He went on to describe what had happened at the end of the previous school year and how he found out about the drastic shift in Lucius' personality. He ended his longwinded story with how he had questioned the clock and discovered that Narcissa had cursed Lucius. "I'm pretty sure she's kept him under that curse ever since," Harry stopped talking and took a sip of his now-cold tea.

"Remarkable," Albus said.

Snape let out a long, slow breath. "Merlin, Brewer. Do you go looking for trouble?"

Harry snickered, "Don't hafta, sir. He has my floo address."

"We will certainly need to look into this matter," Albus stated. "I believe that there is a way to temporarily interrupt an imperius curse, but if memory serves, it only works for about an hour or two at the most. That leaves very little time to alert the MLE should this… theory, for lack of a better word, prove true."

Severus leveled his gaze at Harry, "I thought you said that this wouldn't involve the aurors – again."

Harry chuckled. "I never said that, sir. I said that I didn't think so, but that implied that there was the possibility it could."

Before an argument could surface, Albus interrupted, "We will definitely be looking into this situation, Harry. You've done all you can at this point. Why don't you go on back to your dormitory?"

Harry shook his head, "If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather hear what you plan ta do."

"Very well," Albus refilled Harry's teacup. "An imperius curse is one of the three Unforgivables," Harry nodded, he'd noticed that whilst researching. "Now, this particular curse is considered an Unforgivable because it not only can't be shielded against – much like several hexes popular in formal dueling – and not because it strips its victims of free will, for there are numerous spells and potions which do the same, but because it is virtually impossible to trace and will remain active until either the caster cancels it or the victim is able to fight it off. Now, there is a way to temporarily render an imperius curse inactive. If the caster of the curse has their consciousness completely subdued, the curse is unable to function."

"So, to break it, at least for a little while, all we'd hafta do is knock Narcissa cold?" Harry asked.

Severus snorted, "Not quite, Brewer. When one is asleep, the conscious mind isn't subdued, merely cycling through various levels of dream states."

"Oh," Harry replied, thinking over the problem. "So, what y'all will need ta do is… put her in a coma?"

Albus nodded, "Or a similar state."

Harry looked from Snape to Dumbledore and back again. "Powdered root of asphodel into an infusion of wormwood, right?" Harry smirked a little.

Severus looked up sharply and met Albus' eyes. "That might work, sir."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, "And for longer than a stupefy."

"The only problem would be getting her to drink it," Severus stated before leaning forward and resting his head on his hand, which was in turn propped up on his knee.

The headmaster looked similarly thoughtful for several minutes. Harry was staring at the ceiling when he remembered how this whole chain of events had begun. It had started much earlier than merely meeting Lucius' eyes at the end of the previous school year… Harry could trace the intrigue back to his twelfth birthday, and a visit from a peculiar little creature called Dobby. Struck with inspiration, he started laughing, drawing curious looks from both of the professors.

He grinned and addressed Snape, "Living Death don't have no smell or taste, right?"

Severus nodded, while Albus asked, "I considered slipping it into her drink, as well, Harry, but the question remains – how would we get it there? None of the professors here are in her social circle."

Harry's smile grew broader, "I think I know someone who might be able ta help."

Severus arched an eyebrow, "I know you don't mean Draco."

Harry chuckled, "You're right, I don't mean Draco."

"Then who – "

Harry shook his head and held up a hand to forestall Snape's question. "Lemme see iffen I c'n get him to come here. When would work for y'all?"

Albus cleared his throat, "How about in a week's time? For now, though, both Severus and I shall continue to think on the issue, just in case your… friend decides not to assist us. Will that provide you with enough time to contact this other person?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I think so." He bade the professors a good evening and hurried to his dorm.

After he'd left, Albus chuckled and stood. "Well, Severus. I believe you've a little project – if memory serves, the Draught of Living Death has to mature for several weeks before it can be used."

Severus nodded and got to his feet. "Six weeks, Albus. Do you believe the boy's friend will come through?"

"I don't know, Severus. I believe that _Harry_ believes his friend will help us, but there's no way to tell for sure." He glanced at his pocket watch, "And, my boy, you mentioned something about Minerva having questions?"

Severus nodded, "Yes, she was concerned about the room allocation for next year's guests."

"It's only half-eight, she should still be in her office. I shall speak with you later."

Once Harry had returned to his dorm, he found the other boys playing around with the musical instruments. He could definitely hear an attempt at country-style music, and could tell that none of them had ever really listened to it themselves. After a couple of moments spent listening to what the boys were playing, Neville looked up from the keyboard. "Hey, Harry," he said before noticing Harry's expression. "Okay… what was wrong with what Ron came up with?"

Harry looked to the redhead and asked, "You were tryin' ta do country, right?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. I really liked the steel-guitar sound you showed us."

"Well… What sort of song were you doin'? Is it s'posed ta be fast, medium, or slow? What're the lyrics?"

Ron shrugged, "I didn't have any lyrics in mind, mate. I just liked the sounds…"

Harry chuckled a little, "Want some help?"

"Sure," Ron replied, setting his guitar to the side.

"To start with, you're tryin' ta make it too complicated. Most country music is pretty simplistic; the lyrics are what changes and makes the song unique," Harry explained, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Over the course of the next hour, he helped Ron adjust the music he'd come up with until it began to sound more like the country music Harry'd listened to with Jim. As the boys began getting ready for bed, he mentioned, "Now all we need are some lyrics, an' it might be a decent song."

* * *

**A/N2:** Just to let everyone know - there's going to be a longer-than-is-usual delay after this book is posted before posting begins on year four. I like to make sure I have the story complete before I begin the betaing and posting process, and I'm not quite done yet with year four. Hopefully, it won't take more than a couple of weeks to finish up. Thanks to all my readers, those of you who review, and my beta, Aurilia. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** This is the last chapter for OMLaF. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me so far, hopefully the remainder of the series will prove as enjoyable for you all.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Dobby**

_April 2, 1994  
__Dobby,_

_I know it's been a while since we spoke, but I wanted to let you know that I'd not forgotten about you. In fact, I have a favor to ask you, but you'll need to come to Hogwarts to talk to me. Can you meet me in the headmaster's office on the 9__th__ at seven in the evening?_

_Harry Brewer_

Dobby's eyes grew very large as he read the one and only letter he had ever received in his life. It had been enough of a shock to see that he'd received one in the morning mail, the fact that it came from the Great and Honorable Harry Potter – the elf still hadn't quite gotten used to Harry's name-change – was nearly too much for him to take. Knowing that he wasn't allowed to use the pens and ink in the manor, he carefully burned the end of a broom-twig and used the resulting charcoal tip to scrawl a childlike 'yes' at the bottom of Harry's letter before using one of the owls to return it to his idol. He hoped that the Great and Honorable Harry Potter would allow him to keep the letter if the wizard didn't throw it away when he received Dobby's reply.

Harry had written the letter on the second, mailed it on the third, and received Dobby's nearly-illegible reply on Tuesday, the fifth. The remainder of Harry's week was spent in a slightly nervous, keyed-up state. It didn't help that Ron insisted on working on the music they'd written together for an hour or two nearly every night. Harry had country music pouring out of his ears, or so it seemed to him. During lunch on Thursday, a snippet of his conversation with the headmaster and Snape returned to him. Snape had asked Harry if he went looking for trouble. For reasons unknown to Harry, the phrase wormed its way into the music Ron had written, and before lunch was done with, Harry had lyrics that fit nicely with the tune.

That evening, after dinner, he was the one who asked the boys to play. It surprised them when he picked up his acoustic and mentioned, "Oh, yeah, I managed to get some lyrics for this'un. Iffen y'all don't mind, I'll sing 'em. Y'all's accents just ain't right for a country song." Since his offer was met with no objections, he counted off and he and Ron started in with the twangy guitar riffs, echoed by the synth's steel-guitar. Dean chimed in with the bass, and Seamus' drums kicked in, too. The song was moderately fast-paced.

Harry took a deep breath and counted two measures before singing:

_There I was, just a-sittin' at home,  
Mindin' my own business,  
When all of a sudden there was a knock on my door,  
You'll never guess who it was._

_He said, "Hello, my friend, can I come on in?_  
"_It's been a long, hard road and I feel half-dead."  
I stepped aside, an' let 'im in,  
Got 'im a drink, an' asked 'im 'is name._

_He said, "My name is Trouble,_  
"_Trouble with a capital T,_  
"_I like havin' fun an' playin' games,_  
"_Woncha play awhile with me?"_

_I shoulda known then that somethin' was off,  
But I didn't listen to that voice within,  
I just shook his hand with a little laugh an' said,_  
_"Nice ta meet ya, friend."_

There was an instrumental break of three measures, which allowed Harry time to catch his breath before he had to sing again.

_It was a little while later things started goin' wrong,  
M'broom broke down, an' the chimney collapsed,  
My quidditch team lost, an' I misplaced m'hat.  
M' guest just laughed, an' when I asked 'im why,_

_He said, "My name is Trouble,_  
"_Trouble with a capital T,_  
"_I like havin' fun an' playin' games,  
"Woncha play a while with me?" _

Another instrumental break, this time only for two measures, and then Harry finished off.

_So the next time you're bored an' lookin' for fun,  
Feelin' cooped up an' needin' ta run,  
When ya go out lookin' for trouble, ya don't gotta go far,  
Just come on ta my place an' he'll see how ya are._

_My name is Trouble,  
Trouble with a capital T,  
I like havin' fun an' playin' games,  
Woncha play a while with me?_

As the final notes of the song faded, Harry looked around the room, "Well?"

The general consensus was that the boys liked the song, but Ron made the suggestion to have someone else sing the refrain. Harry agreed, and they tried it again, this time having the rest of the band – sans Harry – sing the chorus.

As the song ended, there was the sound of muted applause coming through the dorm door. Seamus got up from his seat at the drums and opened it to reveal the majority of Gryffindor House crowded into the stairwell, cheering. One of the seventh-years whistled while a second-year shouted, "Why don't you bring that stuff down here and play for everyone?"

Seamus glanced over his shoulder at his friends, "Well? I'm game."

The boys looked at each other and broke into simultaneous grins. It only took ten minutes or so for them to transport the instruments down to the common room, where a space had been made in an alcove near the fireplace. Once everything was set up, Harry let out a shrill, ear-piercing whistle – the same one that Jim and Dave used to call the horses back to the stable every night. "Okay, listen up, y'all! We'll play for ya, but none of us c'n sing all that well!"

Someone near the far wall shouted back, "We don't care!" at the same time that someone else shouted, "It didn't sound that way from the stairs!"

Amid the laughter, Harry looked at his friends and made sure they were ready to go. "Just follow my lead," he said to them before launching into the first song they'd ever learned together – Blue Moon. When that song finished, Harry led them through the majority of the songs they knew, most of which were all part of the oldies progression that Dave had taught Harry. The boys themselves were surprised at the number of songs they knew, they hadn't stopped to realize that every week for the last two full school years, they'd added one or two songs to the list of what they knew.

Their audience was getting into the spirit of things and hoarded junk food and stashes of bottled butterbeer were brought out. Hermione arrived just at curfew to find that the common room had broken into an impromptu party. She was beyond exhausted, and it was still a school night. Frowning, she squared her shoulders and hurried to McGonagall's office.

When Hermione returned to the common room, the deputy headmistress following close behind, they found that one of the seventh-year prefects had noticed the time and called a halt to the evening's fun. Everyone was working together to clean up the mess and the boys were starting to put their instruments back into their carrying cases. "It appears, Miss Granger, that the situation isn't quite as dire as you had painted it," Minerva commented with a small smile.

Hermione felt like an idiot for rushing after and disturbing their head of house, and had started to apologize when the professor shook her head and spoke to the room. "It appears as though you all had some fun this evening." There was a round of nods and other affirmatives. "Don't pack up just yet, boys," she directed her comment to Harry and the other members of his band. "May I ask you to play something for me?"

Harry and his friends looked to each other, slightly uneasy. "Um… didja have anythin' in mind, ma'am?" Harry asked.

Minerva smiled reassuringly, "Have any of you written your own music?"

Harry shrugged, "Yeah… But there's only the two songs, ma'am."

"I would very much like to hear them," she replied.

Harry shrugged again and retrieved his magical electric guitar from the case. "Hermione? Ya gonna help out on the one, or do we hafta suffer Ron singin' it?"

Hermione's jaw dropped open, "But – "

"Go ahead, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall made a shooing motion towards the band.

Sighing, Hermione did as the professor had asked and joined the boys. "Can we make this quick? I'm really tired."

Ron smiled at her, "It's just the one song, 'Mione. We can do the other without you."

Neville looked around and noticed that everyone was ready, even the other members of the house had paused in their cleaning. He started tapping out the birdsong for 'Soar.' When the song finished, Hermione escaped to her room, and Harry exchanged his guitar for the acoustic and the band played 'Lookin' for Trouble' for their teacher.

When they finished, the house applauded as noisily as they had in the stairwell. The professor clapped politely, an odd little smirk on her face before addressing the room once more. "I expect the common room to be put directly in order, and then for the lot of you to go to bed. You still have classes in the morning, after all." She disappeared through the portrait hole before Harry could ask about the strange smile.

"What do you think that was all about?" Seamus asked, putting his drums back into their cases.

"No idea," Harry admitted.

All day Saturday, Harry was extremely nervous. He had no idea if Dobby would be able to slip the potion into Narcissa's drink, or if that would be considered acting against his family – something that no bound house elf would be capable of doing.

He tried to keep himself occupied, finishing up his homework, reading through some of his additional books, and working on trying to find something for his last project for Spell Creation, but nothing held his attention for long. He eventually meandered his way to Remus and Sirius' rooms, where the two managed to keep Harry sufficiently occupied for most of the day, chatting about how school was progressing, reminiscing about their own days as students, and playing card games. Sirius made mention that he had started working on the animagus transformation near the end of his third year and asked Harry if he'd read the book he'd given him. Harry had nodded and replied that he thought it sounded pretty cool. That led to Sirius explaining the process in a bit more detail than the book had gone into.

Before Harry realized it, it was finally time for dinner. Dobby was due to arrive just afterwards. Harry rushed through his meal and telling his friends that he had some questions regarding Spell Creation, he headed up to the staff table. "Sir?"

Albus nodded to Harry, "Yes, Mr. Brewer?"

"That person I told y'all 'bout should be here at seven. I told him to meet me in your office," Harry replied, keeping his voice low.

"Severus and I shall join you shortly," Dumbledore replied. "Go on up, the password for this evening is 'fruitcake.'"

"Just out of curiosity, sir, how often do you change your password?"

Albus thought for a moment, "Approximately twice every seven hundred-thousand seconds or so."

Harry figured that probably meant about twice a week. He thanked the professor and hurried to the headmaster's office. Checking his watch, he saw that it was still only half past six. He still had a half an hour to wait before Dobby's expected arrival.

He managed to waste about ten minutes looking over the multiple whirring gadgets on display throughout the room, and a further five by looking over the many portraits of headmasters past. His gaze landed on the shelf behind the headmaster's desk and he noticed the Sorting Hat sitting there. It startled him when it spoke, "Still insist you don't wish to be great, young Harry?"

"Yeah, I still insist. I don't wanna be 'great.' I'd much rather just be me."

Harry had the distinct impression that the hat was grinning at him, "But, don't you see, you already _are_ great." Harry didn't know how to reply to that, but the hat continued before he had the chance to, "And even _you_ can't argue that the events of this year would have gone much easier for you had you been where you should have been all this time – in Slytherin."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I ain't a seer, so I can't prove or disprove that, but iffen I'd been a Slytherin like y'all wanted, I'd've had ta put up with that snot-ball, Draco, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, as well as that inbred yokel, Nott. I _like_ my friends in Gryffindor, an' _you_ can't tell me that I woulda been friends with them iffen I'd been in Slytherin. You know none of the students mix with the other houses none."

"That is hardly my fault. I merely sort the students and try to encourage interhouse cooperation with my start of term song; you can't blame me if my advice isn't taken."

"Whatever," Harry replied. "How come y'all sort the students the way ya do? Iffen y'all want everyone ta get along, why doncha just randomly send students to a house?"

"That is not how I was designed," the hat responded. "The founders spelled me to sort the students based on specific lists of criteria, ergo that is what I do."

"I s'pose I c'n understand that," Harry acknowledged, "but what happens iffen y'all come across a student that don't fit with none of the houses?"

The hat made a motion with its brim, it looked to Harry as though it had shrugged. "In the millennium since Hogwarts was founded, that particular scenario has yet to surface."

Harry dropped the conversation when he heard the door to the office open and Snape and the headmaster arrived. Harry checked his watch, it was ten to seven. The headmaster took his seat, and Severus and Harry arranged themselves identically to how they'd sat during the conversation the previous week. "I have prepared the draught," Severus stated, "and it should be ready for use no later than the twentieth of May. It has a shelf-life of roughly two weeks, so if tonight's encounter turns out less than favorably, we still have eight weeks to come up with an alternate plan."

Before either the headmaster or Harry could reply, there was a small popping noise. Harry jumped out of his chair and spotted Dobby, still wearing the dirty pillowcase. "Hey, Dobby!" Harry greeted the little elf. The elf immediately burst into joyful sobs at seeing Harry and rushed over and clung to the teen's legs. "It's good ta see ya, too," Harry patted the elf on the head. "I'm glad you could come, I hope it won't get ya in trouble none."

"Dobby came, Mister Harry Brewer Sir, just like sir asked. You said yous had a favor to asks of Dobby?" The elf said, his eyes still leaking large tears and smiling brightly.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but 'fore I get ta that, lemme introduce ya to Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore."

The elf bowed low to both of the wizards. "How can Dobby be serving such powerful wizards?"

Harry motioned to the chair he'd vacated when the elf popped into the room. "Remember the rules for my room, Dobby?" Dobby nodded. "Good, same rules here, only the headmaster is the one who will tell you iffen a punishment's needed, right?" he looked up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded, "That is correct."

Harry turned his attention back to the elf. "Have a seat, Dobby. I need to explain some things before we get to that favor. Quick question, though, how long can you stay before you're missed?"

Dobby's smile grew, "I's made sure Dobby won't be missed until morning, Mister Harry Brewer Sir."

Harry let out a deep breath, "You did the right thing, Dobby. I don't know how long this is gonna take. I also have a few questions I wanna ask ya."

"How can Dobby help?"

"Firstly, Dobby, you're bound to protect your family, right?" The elf nodded. "Okay, so can you tell me what you'd do iffen one member of your family was hurting another member of your family?"

"That depends, sir," the elf replied, fidgeting with his pillowcase.

"On what?" Harry prompted.

"On if the hurts were punishments or an accident and if the person being hurt was born to Dobby's family," the elf explained.

"Well, what if the 'hurts' weren't a punishment or an accident, and were being done to a member of your family that had been born to the family by someone who had married into the family?" At this point, it became clear to both of the professors that the elf wasn't bound to Harry, as well as precisely what family he _was_ bound to. Severus and Albus exchanged slightly astonished glances before returning their attention to the elf.

"Dobby's main loyalty is to those members of his family that were born to the family," Dobby replied. "Dobby's duty would be to stop the hurts from happening."

Harry smiled at that. "Good. Now, Dobby, I need you to listen carefully to this, okay?" The elf nodded. "Narcissa is hurting Lucius – she's keeping him under a really bad spell."

Dobby's eyes grew very large and an angry look crossed his face, "Bad mistress!"

Harry settled a calming hand on the elf's shoulder. "Settle down, Dobby. The professors and me know a way to fix the situation, an' make sure she can't hurt 'im again. But, we'll need your help, okay?"

"Dobby will do whatever Mister Harry Brewer Sir asks."

"We will need you to put a potion into one of Narcissa's drinks. Does she do the tea-thing at four?" Dobby nodded. "You'll need to do it then, alright?"

"What day will Dobby be doing this?"

"The twentieth of May – that's next month. The potion we need you to use won't be ready until then."

Dobby stood up, "Dobby will be back at three on May twentieth." He snapped his fingers before anyone could reply, and disappeared from the office.

Harry sighed, "I wish he'd stuck around a little longer, I had more questions for him."

As Harry sank back into the now-vacant chair, Albus gave him a quirky smile. "I must say, Harry, you do have some of the oddest friends."

Harry shrugged, unable to contradict the comment.

The next six weeks alternately sped and dragged by. The quidditch season progressed, with Ravenclaw winning against both Hufflepuff and Slytherin, Slytherin then losing to Hufflepuff – which put them out of the running for the Cup – and Gryffindor winning against Ravenclaw. The final match was scheduled for the second-to-last weekend of the school year and would be another between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Since Spell Creation wasn't the same as a normal class, there wouldn't be a final exam for the class; instead, they did their final projects for the year by creating a spell that the headmaster assigned. Draco was to work out a way to determine the fillings of various chocolates without having to poke holes in them in the process, Hermione was to create a spell that would automatically annotate a handwritten tome with an index, and Harry was to create a combination cleaning/pressing/folding spell for laundry. Oddly enough, the most difficult of the three spells proved to be the one concerning chocolate.

At long last, May twentieth arrived. As had happened six weeks earlier, Harry was rather nervous, the upside was that this time around, he had class to distract him. Dawdling over cleaning his workstation in Potions, he was the last one to finish. His friends offered to wait for him, but he waived them off, saying that he had some questions for the professor. Somewhat used to his seemingly abnormal liking for the class, the group of Gryffindors headed outside to enjoy a head start on their weekend.

"I have the draught with me, Brewer," Snape said.

"Good," Harry replied, hurriedly packing up the last of his things. He followed the professor through a couple of hidden corridors to the headmaster's office. Dobby was already there. Harry gave the little elf a hug and said, "Professor Snape will tell you what to do with the potion, Dobby."

Dobby turned his overlarge green eyes on the potions master. Severus handed the elf a small vial, filled with a colorless liquid. "You will need to empty this entire vial into her tea, elf. Once she drinks the entirety of it, she will fall asleep – do not be alarmed if you are unable to sense her magic or life force, this potion is designed to suppress both of those. When she has fallen into that state, return and inform the headmaster."

"Dobby will do as sir asks," Dobby bowed low and disappeared.

Harry settled into 'his' chair opposite Dumbledore. "I wish I knew how he did that," Harry said. "I thought ya couldn't apparate inside Hogwarts."

"House elves do not apparate," Albus explained, conjuring his favorite cream-and-rose tea service. "No one is precisely sure how they travel as they do, other than the elves themselves, of course, but none of them will tell a wizard."

Harry accepted a cup of tea, and the three of them fell into a discussion regarding the uses of dragons' blood in potions – which, coincidentally, were ten of its twelve uses. The eleventh had to do with the setting of household anti-fire wards, and the last was in binding diametrically opposite spells into the same object.

Approximately an hour and twenty minutes later, Dobby reappeared. "Mistress has drank all of the potion, sirs. She's sleeping now, and sir was right, it _is_ hard to see mistress's magic."

"Thanks, Dobby. I haven't forgotten that promise I made you when we first met, but after this is over, you might not need me to anymore." Harry smiled at the elf, who returned the gesture.

"Dobby must return, sirs," he said and disappeared a final time.

"What did you promise the elf?" Severus asked while the headmaster activated the floo.

"Don't matter no more," Harry replied, shrugging a little

In short order, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out of the fireplace. "What's this about, sir?" he asked of Albus.

"We have reason to believe that Lucius Malfoy has been under an imperius curse set by his wife," Albus explained. "We have already cancelled a portion of this issue by seeing to it that Mrs. Malfoy unknowingly took a dose of Draught of Living Death. If you would verify our suspicions by going to Malfoy Manor and speaking with Lucius, I would be much obliged."

The tall black auror blinked. "I should know by now that if I show up and you've got the Boy-Who-Lived in here with you, the report I'm about to hear is going to be completely unlikely, almost absurd, and entirely _true_." He smiled at Harry and said, "Do me a favor, would you?"

"Whacha need?"

"Don't ever become an auror, kid. You'd make the rest of us look bad."

Harry chuckled, "Don't worry 'bout it none, sir. Mom don't know, but I wanna run rodeo when I get outta school - least for a few years. After that, I dunno... Maybe get my pilot's license upgraded to commercial or mayhap see iffen the USAF could use me for a stint or two."

Kingsley chuckled and ducked back into the floo.

"And that," Albus said, banishing the tea service, "as they say, is that."

"Will you let me know how it all turns out, sir?" Harry asked.

"I dare say that an incident of this magnitude is likely to be in the papers, Harry," Albus replied.

Harry grinned, "We don't get the _Prophet_ at home. Would ya lemme keep your copy when it comes out?"

"Not a problem," Albus smiled. "Now, though, you have an entire weekend ahead of you and a big match on Sunday to prepare for. Off with you."

Harry knew a dismissal when he heard one, and headed out into the bright May sunshine.

After a long match wherein there were many seemingly death-defying maneuvers performed in midair, dozens of goals were scored on both sides, and the snitch evaded capture no fewer than a full nine times, Ravenclaw scraped a minor victory. The final score was 410 to 400. It wasn't quite enough to put them in the lead for the House Cup, but Ravenclaw was happy with winning the Quidditch Cup. Oliver, on the other hand, looked positively crestfallen when he shook the Ravenclaw captain's hand at the end of the match. Harry was glad that no one had mentioned the scouts from Puddlemere United that had been in the stands during the game to Wood.

As it turned out, though, the scouts had been impressed with Wood's performance during the six-hour match, and said that they'd be in touch after his NEWTs were completed. So, despite losing the Quidditch Cup, Oliver couldn't stop grinning for the remainder of the school year. Harry was surprised to find out that most professional quidditch teams required a minimum of three NEWTs in order to play – most, if not all, sports he was familiar with didn't care if you knew anything else, so long as you could play and play well.

The second-to-last week of school was spent in review, and the final week was spent in completing their final exams and projects for the year. When it was all said and done, Hermione mentioned that she wasn't going to continue on in Muggle Studies because the class was 'laughably out of date,' and as a direct result, she was able to turn in the time-turner – she wouldn't need it the following year.

When everyone was packing up for the summer, Dean paused in packing away his uniforms and asked, "Hey, Harry? You ever find out what you needed from that ruddy clock?"

Harry laughed, "Yeah, mi amigo, I did. Iffen y'all wanna know more, then I'd advise ya to keep an eye on the papers this summer."

Despite pestering and threat of tickle-torture under rictusempra, Harry still refused to go into any more detail.

After the leaving feast, Harry returned to a dorm that was all packed away, with the exception of the clothes the boys were intending to wear home the next day and their pajamas for the night. There was also an unfamiliar owl perched on Harry's bedpost. It dropped a letter at Harry's feet before winging out through the open window.

Harry sat down on his bed and broke the wax seal on the back of the thick parchment envelope.

_4 June, 1994  
Dear Mr. Brewer:_

_I must admit that when I felt your presence in my mind a year ago, I had no idea that you would be able to do as much as you have in the short amount of time since that day. You managed to surprise me and not many people can._

_In short, I thank you for your help. I do hope that one day, you will consent to giving me the full details of just how you managed to figure out what was going on._

_I am uncertain as to whether or not you are familiar with the concept of a wizards' debt, but, considering the circumstances, I find myself in the position of owing one to you. If there is ever anything you need, do not hesitate to ask._

_Sincerely yours,  
Lucius Abraxian__Xavier Malfoy_

Harry tucked the letter into his trunk, wondering in passing just why the Malfoy family seemed to have an obsession with the name 'Xavier'. He further wondered if Lucius was going to be at Kings' Cross the next day – if so, then he could reply to the letter in person. Harry changed into his pajamas, and used his newly-crafted laundry charm to set the clothes he had been wearing to rights before placing them in his trunk as well. Noticing that he was starting to run out of space in the clothing compartment, Harry made a mental note to clean it out when he returned home. It looked as though there were still things in it from his first year.

The next day, just before the carriages arrived to take the students down to the Hogwarts Express, Dumbledore pulled both Harry and Draco aside. "I am impressed that the both of you managed to go the entire year without another confrontation. You may consider your probationary period lifted, but I hope that the two of you will be able to continue as you have this year, and ignore one another if you are unable to interact peaceably."

Harry shrugged, "It don't seem that hard to ignore him, professor. I'll try to continue doing so in the future, but iffen he starts somethin' I _will_ finish it."

Draco merely scoffed, rolled his eyes, and headed for the carriages that had pulled to a stop outside the castle.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, "You know, I almost feel sorry for the Krätze. Does he know what's been goin' on with his dad?"

Albus shook his head, "At Lucius' request, no one has told Draco about the situation. I believe Lucius mentioned wanting to speak with him personally."

Harry threw back his head and laughed, "In that case, I really _do_ feel sorry for him!"

Albus smiled at Harry's reaction. "You'd best hurry, Harry. You don't want to miss the train, I'm sure."

Harry grinned, "Naw, I ain't worried 'bout the train, though I do wanna see Draco an' his dad meet up in London."

Harry bade the headmaster a good holiday and slipped into the carriage he'd seen Hermione, Neville, and Ron enter while he was talking with Dumbledore.

The train ride back to Kings' Cross was as uneventful as the ride to school had been. Less so, really, when one took into consideration the fact that Draco and his friends secured a compartment in a completely different car than the one Harry and his friends occupied.

The peace, though, lasted only until the blonde Slytherin annoyance purposefully rammed his shoulder into Harry's while they were looking for their respective families on Platform 9 ¾. "Watch where you're going, _Potter_."

Harry glared at Draco, "You sorry excuse for a wizard – why doncha watch where _you're _goin'? Mayhap y'all need glasses like mine. There was plenty of room for ya not ta run inta me."

"You still sound like a simpleton; what's the matter, didn't your whore of a mother teach you how to speak properly?"

Harry curled his right hand into a fist and was about to step forward and give Draco another black eye and hopefully break the runt's jaw, when he saw something that made him smile. Lucius was standing just behind Draco, and had arrived in time to hear his son's ill-advised comment. Forcefully making his hand relax, Harry met Draco's eyes. He could tell that the moron was perplexed by his actions and likewise didn't know what had made Harry smile. "Out of respect for your dad, I ain't gonna kick your ass like I should – "

Before Harry could finish the sentence, Lucius interrupted him and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "There is no need, Mr. Brewer. Draco and I are going to have a _long_ talk when we return to Wiltshire. If he continues in this behavior next year, you will have my permission to deal with the situation as necessary."

Draco had jumped at the sound of his father's voice, and Harry could see that he wasn't at all sure what was going on. "But, _Dad_ –" he tried to get his father's attention.

Lucius merely leveled a scorching look at his son's whining. "None of that, Draco. When we return _home_."

Harry called after the pair as they turned to leave, "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes?" Lucius turned back to Harry.

"I got your letter, an' I don't know iffen it still applies, but I made a promise with your house elf last year… well, almost two years ago, now. Anyway, you might wanna talk to Dobby. An' as to your request about the whole story… well, get my floo address from Dumbledore. You're welcome ta call anytime, so long as y'all realize that my home is six hours earlier in the day than here."

Lucius nodded and ignored Draco's agitated questions of what Harry was talking about and what was going on. "I will do that, Mr. Brewer."

Harry smiled, "Thanks, sir. Have a nice day."

"And you as well, Mr. Brewer."

The sound of Draco's confused questions as Lucius led him away was music to Harry's ears.

* * *

**A/N2:** Okay, that's about all I have completed in the series thus far. The next book, 'International Magical Cooperation' will begin to be posted when I finish writing it and having my beta read through it. Hopefully, everyone should see the first chapters for it come up in approximately two weeks' time (no later than October 8). 


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